


April Showers

by eerian_sadow



Series: peanut butter and jelly [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bonding ceremony, Character Death, Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Grief, Multi, Original Characters Galore - Freeform, mech smoochies, overreactions, physical damage, poor communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 29,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: Finding your perfect match is a miracle that Jazz wasn't really hoping for. So, he could never have imagined that he would meet his as acid rain ate off his plating. And he definitely never thought there would be two of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [2015 Tiny Treats, How They Got Together edition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4081111) by [eerian_sadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow). 



> This was inspried by a Tiny Treat I wrote a long time ago. #2 on the page linked above, in fact.

This wasn't the first time he had missed the last public transport and had to walk home after a gig, but it was certainly the most irritating. It was _groons_ past closing time and he had spent almost every joor of them being interviewed by the Enforcers to try and figure out who had pulled the disaster alarm and started the riot in the club. 

 

Thankfully he was just irritated. Blaster had left with the emergency medic so that his guitar hand could be reattached and so that Tracks’ wings could be repaired. 

 

Still, the street was utterly empty now, and this long after curfew he didn't dare attract any attention by driving. He could see a light on near the cross street, but that was the only other sign of life around.

 

The aloneness made his exhaustion feel that much more crippling. 

 

“Just a little farther, Jazz-mech. Only two long blocks and that shortcut through the park.” The musician sighed deeply. “And next time one of the Enforcers can find you a ride home.”

 

He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, continuing to whisper encouragement to himself to keep moving. By morning, he would probably have it worked into the chorus of a new song.

 

Jazz was so focused on his mantra that he didn't hear the rain storm start until the first drops of acid stung into his plating. He hissed in pain and looked up, systems switching from exhaustion to panic mode, and tried to find some small bit of shelter.

 

There wasn't so much as a public shuttle stop, but the light in the house at the end of the intersection was still burning brightly.

 

Panic took over before the musician was conscious of the decision and his exhausted trudge turned into a sprint. The rain picked up as he ran, burning into his plating in a constant sheet of pain by the time he reached the door of the house.

 

“Please be someone who'll help a stranger out.” Jazz banged on the door, loudly and too many times. “Please, I'm caught in the rain!”

 

For several long kliks nothing going happened, and Jazz choked back a frustrated cry. Then the door opened to a stern looking black and white mech.

 

“Come inside,” the stranger’s said. “Before the acid does more than take off the top layer of your armor.”

 

“Thank you.” The visored mech trembled with relief as he stepped inside and the other mech sealed the door behind him. “I wasn't supposed to be out this late, so I wasn't expecting it.”

 

“Well, you're safe for the night now.” The stranger--slightly taller than he was, Jazz noticed, and carrying an impressive set of sensory wings on his back--gestured for him to move further down the entry hall. “You should shower before the remaining acid does permanent damage. You will find the wash rack just around the bend in the hall and towels just inside the door. When you're done, you can tell us what kept you out so late that you ended up in the storm.”

 

Jazz nodded. It was only fair that the occupants of the house _knew_ why he had been out there. “Sure. And thanks again. I'm Jazz, by the way.”

 

“Prowl. And my partner is Bluestreak. You will meet him soon enough.” Prowl gestured toward the bend in the hallway. “If you find any unexpected damage, tell me and I will call a medic for you.”

 

“All right.” Jazz nodded again and turned back toward the hall. Before the black and white mech could prompt him again, he took a step toward his immediate goal. He could feel his exhaustion creeping back in now that he wasn't in danger of being melted on the street, and he felt a pang of guilt. He would almost definitely fall into recharge before he could leave, and these strangers would be stuck with him well after the storm was over.

 

He couldn't do anything about it, though, except wash off so that he wasn't dripping acid all over the floor. 

 

Prowl's directions were very precise, and he found the wash rack just past the bend like the taller mech said. He walked heavily toward the single stall, one with plenty of space for those sensory wings to spread out in, instead of getting the towels out; dripping acid and bits of plating onto his hosts’ linens was not the impression he intended to make after his earlier panic.

 

Jazz stepped into the stall and reached for the shower controls. Hot solvent would be agonizing on his already damaged plating, but he couldn't use any of his hosts’ water to dilute it--if they were wealthy enough to be able to afford water. Rather than go poking through the unfamiliar menu or ask, he simply dialed down the temperature and braced himself. 

 

For a moment, the barely warm solvent felt nice. Then the layer of dissolved plating began sloughing away and it _burned_.

 

Jazz bit down on his lip and tried not to cry out as he turned so that more of his plating could be rinsed.

 

 

 

“Is he all right?” Bluestreak tucked his pistol back into his subspace as Prowl told him about their unexpected visitor. 

 

“He has some surface damage, but I do not have enough medical knowledge to be sure beyond that.” 

 

“Maybe we should call a medic. I bet Fixit's on duty at Nova Memorial.” The silver mech stood up and gave his partner a pointed look. “It's not like I know how to treat acid burns any more than you do.”

 

“I believe you may be right.” Prowl sighed. “Will you make up the guest room while I call? The storm isn't liked to clear up anytime soon and Jazz looked exhausted.”

 

“Sure thing!” Blue smiled and moved toward the door, pausing on his way out of the berthroom to give his partner a quick kiss. 

 

 

 

Jazz turned off the solvent and rinsed very quickly once he was sure all the acid had been cleaned off. He hurt more now than he had when he had stepped under the spray, and both his outer layer of custom color nantes _and_ his natural coloration had been stripped off and rinsed down the drain. He'd seen the telltale sheen of silver rinsing down the drain occasionally, too, telling him that his plating was compromised in a few places as well.

 

He knew he was damned lucky that he hadn't been trapped outside, but this was all going to be very expensive to repair or replace. 

 

Jazz let himself drip as much as he could in the stall before stepping out. Toweling off would be its own special brand of pain and he wasn't looking forward to it. But he was still thoroughly exhausted from the fallout at the club, and staying on his feet was rapidly ceasing to be an option. 

 

The musician felt his legs shaking as he stepped out of the shower and for a moment he was afraid he might fall before he could get to the towels. After two wobbly steps, though, his hand closed around the side of the shelf holding the towels and Jazz sighed with relief. 

 

“Wow, you don't look so good.” Jazz was startled by the unfamiliar voice and looked up from his unstable feet at a silver and grey mech who shared the same frame type as Prowl. “Prowl sent me to check on you, cause you'd been in there for a while and it looks like a good thing he did.”

 

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

 

“Here, you stay put and I'll dry you off.” The silver mech walked into the room, grabbed a towel off the shelf and stepped up next to him. He was drying the musician with gentle patting motions before Jazz knew exactly what was happening, and it hurt a lot less than he had expected. “I'm Bluestreak, by the way. Prowl said your name is Jazz?”

 

“Yeah.” Jazz was doing his best not to sway, but his body wasn't quite obeying his commands. “That's me.”

 

“I like your name. In the Praxian dialect, that glyph would mean spontaneous or maybe improvisation depending on how it was used.”

 

“My carrier said it meant joy in her dialect.”

 

“Oh that's really nice!” The silver and grey mech smiled brightly. “Where was she from originally?”

 

“Tarn, I think. She didn't really talk about it.”

 

“Tarn is a hard place to live.” Bluestreak nodded, as if he was agreeing with himself. “Have your ever lived anywhere besides Iacon?”

 

“I was framed in Tyger Pax and we lived there til I was old enough to get into music school. Then I went to school in Gygax for a while before I transferred here.” Jazz whined softly as the silver and grey mech patted a particularly sensitive spot on his back.

 

“Sorry,” Bluestreak said. “You're just about bare to protoform there.”

 

“Then storm came up from behind me. My back took the worst of it.”

 

“You should see a medic.” Bluestreak stopped patting and tossed the towel over a drying hook. “Would it be okay if my friend Fixit stops by after his shift? He works the emergency ward at Nova Memorial.”

 

Jazz didn't want to think about how much a house call was going to cost, and nodded slowly. The silver mech was right; he needed a medic sooner rather than later, if only to get the right kind of paste to seal the damage until his self repair could take care of it. “Sure. Don't want to get rust or something.”

 

“That would be awful!” Bluestreak’s sensory wings shivered. “Come on, we can go tell Prowl to tell Fixit to come over and then you can have a cube of energon before you crash.”

 

“I'd really just like to recharge.” Despite his protest, Jazz’s fuel tank sent a warning ping to his heads-up display. He needed fuel, but he didn't have a way to pay these mechs back right now. 

 

“No way. Your self repair is going to be crazy overworked. You're going to have two cubes, if you can hold it all.” Bluestreak held out one hand, indicating that Jazz should start walking. “ _Then_ you can recharge until Fixit gets here.”

 

“All right.” Jazz held his hands up in surrender. “Energon, then recharge.”

 

He tried not to panic about how much everything would cost as Bluestreak led him out of the washroom. The band didn't have much of an emergency fund and none of the royalties from their album had come in yet, and Tracks’ wings were going to use up every shanix and credit line they had. Jazz’s repairs were coming out of his own subspace, somehow. 

 

“It's just a little further down the hall, in the room in the middle.” Bluestreak’s voice shook him out of the spiral of worry he was sliding into. “It's a weird spot for a dining room, I know. This whole house is weird shaped. But Prowl and I got it for next to nothing because of that, which was good because I was still a cadet back then and he was on a beat and we didn't have any money.”

 

It was nice to let the silver mech carry the bulk of the conversation with how tired he was, but Jazz was also curious about these mechs who had taken him into their home. “On a beat? Prowl's an Enforcer?”

 

“We both are,” the silver mech confirmed. “He's a detective now, and I'm in riot control.”

 

Jazz turned into the dining room before Bluestreak could try to touch him to guide him through the door. He wasn't so tired that he was willing to go through even more pain just for that. “Riot control, huh? Didn't see you at the club tonight.”

 

“At the club?” Bluestreak looked at Prowl as he followed the musician through the door. “See if he can come over after the storm clears, will you? Jazz lost a lot of plating.”

 

Prowl nodded almost absently and turned toward the window to continue the comm call Jazz could almost hear.

 

The silver Enforcer turned back to his guest. “Prowl and I are on leave this meta-cycle, so I wasn't on duty tonight. What happened?”

 

Jazz took a moment to sit down _very_ carefully in one of the chairs arranged around his hosts’ large table. “Couple of gangs decided that Joyride was the place to have a brawl tonight. Right about the time they started getting heated, someone pulled the fire alarm and started a panic. Things went from fight to panic to full-on riot in about five kliks. Rosanna’s club is trashed.”

 

“She's the little pink recordicon that’s paired with Twincast, right?” Bluestreak waited for Jazz's confirming nod before continuing. “I thought so. We've had to break up fights down there before, but nothing as bag as you're talking about. Is she okay?”

 

“Honestly, I'm not sure.” The visored mech sighed deeply. “I was so busy bouncing around from Enforcer to Enforcer and then the emergency medics for my band mates that I never even thought to look for her.”

 

“I'll find out later tonight then.” The silver and grey mech said, moving over to the small energon dispenser on the far side of the dining room. “I'll let you know as soon as I know. Prowl, what additives does Fixit say Jazz needs?”

 

“He says to give him any base metals we have, and that he will bring a more extensive kit when he stops by.” Prowl replied without turning around.

 

“Thanks.” Bluestreak punched a few commands into the dispenser and filled a cube. He smiled ruefully as he brought it back to the table and set it down in front of his guest. “Fixit is a good medic, but I'm not sure he realizes how awful that's going to taste.”

 

“It's okay. Won't be the worst I've had.” Jazz picked up the cube and took a large drink. He swallowed before his taste receptors had a chance to analyze the fuel, then made a face as they registered the heavy aftertaste of iron mixed with copper. “Nope, not the worst, but it's close.”

 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I don't know what's different about medical grade additives, but they aren't nearly as bad.” Blue smiled again. 

 

“I don't know about that.” The musician could only remember one hospital stay that had been long enough that he needed energon, but it had definitely been a foul blend. He took another drink from the cube in his hand. “Thanks, by the way. I appreciate you both helping me out like this.”

 

“You're welcome. We're glad we were home to do it. We almost went to Crystal City tonight.”

 

“And now we know why we didn't.” Prowl turned away from the window and focused his full attention on his partner and their guest. “Fixit will be by as soon as there is a break in the storm. Casualties from the club riot were taken the Iacon Regional, so his services are in short demand otherwise.”

 

“Sounds good. That'll give me time for a nap before he gets here.” Jazz smiled and hoped it looked sincere. He didn't want these strangers to feel guilty about the money he didn't have to pay for treatment he definitely needed.

 

“It will, and one of us will show you to the guest room as soon as you've finished your energon.” The black and white Enforcer gave him a serious look. “But first, I have a few questions for you, if you feel well enough to answer.”

 

“What, about the club?”

 

“In a way.”

 

“Yeah, all right.” Jazz shrugged one shoulder. It couldn't hurt to answer the same round of questions again. 

 

“Did the officers on scene keep you out past the curfew while they were taking your statement?” Prowl seemed calm as he asked, but his wings were shivering slightly with some kind of emotion.

 

“Um, yeah.”

 

“And did they offer you an escort home, or transportation to protect you from the rain?”

 

“No, but I didn't ask either.”

 

“You should not have needed to ask.” The black and white mech frowned. Jazz glanced at Bluestreak and saw the expression mirrored on the other mech's face. “Do you remember the designation and Enforcer serial code for the mech who took your statement?”

 

“There were five, and yeah I think I do.” Jazz tried not to be nervous at the stormy expression building on Prowl's face. “If you get me a datapad, I can write them down for you.”

 

“Thank you.” The black and white mech pulled a datapad and stylus from his subspace and set them in front of Jazz. “They should not have left you or any civilian in that situation, and they are fortunate that I am not back on duty for several cycles.”

 

The musician glanced from Prowl’s angry frown to an almost matching expression on Bluestreak’s face. 

 

“We’re supposed to protect, not leave people to die,” the silver mech said softly--and Jazz didn't miss the thread of anger in his previously cheerful tone.

 

For a moment, he was shocked that they were so upset on his behalf; no one got so worked up over a total stranger. Then he let it warm his spark a little.

 

Prowl and Bluestreak _did_ care, in sharp contrast to most every Enforcer he had ever met. And they had cared, even before they knew what their coworkers had done.

 

Quickly, he wrote down the names he remembered, though he wasn’t sure Prowl would be able to read them with how badly his hand was still shaking. He followed the names with the Enforcer ID numbers he had gotten and a brief description of what each mech had looked like. Then he slid the datapad back to Prowl.

 

“Blaster and Tracks talked to some of the same officers, if you need to confirm anything.” The musician clasped his hands in front of his chest, trying to hide how badly he was shaking. Now that he had fueled, it was much harder to ignore his systems’ demands for recharge.

 

“It is possible.” Prowl took the datapad and tucked it away again. “But not tonight. They need their rest as surely as you do.”

 

“Prowl’s right,” Bluestreak added. “I'd really like it if you had another cube, but you look ready to pass out right now.”

 

“I could use a couch,” the visored mech admitted.

 

“Well, we'll do better than that.” The silver and grey mech extended a hand to help the musician up. “We've got a guest room with a full recharge station and an extra soft berth pad.”

 

As Bluestreak led him out of the dining room, Jazz had no idea what to think. The two Enforcers were nothing like anyone he had ever met before.


	2. Chapter 2

Jazz came online slowly, woken by the sound of voices in the hall. He didn't recognize them, and the room he was waking up in was equally unfamiliar. For long kliks, he thought he might have gotten drunk after the show and had passed out at a groupie’s house.

 

Then he remembered the riot, the storm and taking shelter in Prowl and Bluestreak’s place.

 

Jazz groaned softly and tried to take stock of his current level of damage. Now that he was online and processing at his usual speed, everything hurt and his self repair didn't seem to have even made a millimeter’s worth of progress against the damage. A quick check of the time told him he had recharged for almost six groons; surely he should have been able to notice _some_ level of repair after that long.

 

“Blue, I know you mean well, but I didn't drive across half of Iacon just to have breakfast.” The unfamiliar voice spoke immediately outside the door and Jazz frowned. This was probably the medic, the last person he wanted to see right now.

 

“I know. I just… he's finally recharging and I feel bad waking him up.” Bluestreak’s voice made the musician feel slightly better. He wouldn't have to face the medic alone.

 

“I understand that, but delaying his treatment isn't doing him any favors, especially if he's as damaged as Prowl said.”

 

“Yeah.” the silver and grey mech’s voice sounded a little defeated. 

 

After a few kliks, there was a knock on his door. Jazz lifted his head just enough to project his voice. “You can come in. I'm awake.”

 

The door slid open a moment later and Bluestreak stepped inside. “I hope your nap helped, some.”

 

“Not really, but I think I'd need a whole day of recharge after last night.” The musician let his head drop back down against the pillow--a completely unexpected luxury--with a heavy flop. “Is the medic here?”

 

“Yeah.” Bluestreak stepped further into the room to let a tall white and red mech into the room. “This is my friend Fixit. Fixit, Jazz.”

 

“Good morning, Jazz.” the medic stepped to his berth side quickly. “May I have your permission to access your personal medical file?”

 

Jazz resisted the urge to chuckle. He should have known the medic would want to get right to business. “Yeah, sure. Jazz, Tyger Pax, spark ID ending in one-one-three-alpha-four.”

 

Fixit tilted his head as he scanned the data network to find the relevant file. “Ah, there you are. Thank you for being so precise with your verification.”

 

“Sure, no problem.” Slowly, wincing in pain as soon as he moved more than his head, Jazz rolled onto his side and sat up. “So how do you want me?”

 

“Sitting down is fine for now. I don’t like the look of your feet at all.” Fixit crouched down in front of the musician and lifted one foot carefully. Jazz steeled himself for a flash of pain as the medic carefully prodded the sole. Both he and Fixit frowned when he felt nothing. “Jazz, how far did you run in the storm?”

 

“Only about two blocks. Running for the place with the lights on made more sense than banging on doors until someone woke up.”

 

“That was probably wise, but it’s done some incredibly significant damage to your feet.” Fixit lowered the first foot and lifted the second. “You will need to have them completely rebuilt from the sensors out. The support struts and framework still look sound, but everything else is slagged.”

 

Jazz whimpered. “That’s going to cost more than I make in a year.”

 

“Nova Memorial will worry about that for now. You won’t be working in ten solar cycles if the rebuild isn’t done.”

 

The musician felt his spark stop pulsing at the medic’s words. Not being able to sing or dance would kill him as surely as the rain would have if Prowl and Bluestreak hadn’t been home. “O-okay. We can’t do it here, though, right?”

 

“No, not at all. I will schedule you an appointment for tomorrow morning with one of my colleagues. First Aid is much better at rebuilds than I am.”

 

Jazz glanced up at Bluestreak, who gave him a smile and a confident nod. Clearly, the Enforcer trusted the other medic at least as much as the one examining him. “All right. I’ll need to let my boss know what’s going on, but I’ll be free all day. All deca-cycle probably, since he’s in the hospital after last night, too.”

 

“Yes, Bluestreak told me a little bit of what happened. I’m sorry that you’ve all had to deal with that.” Fixit leaned back on his heels and looked up at Jazz’s face. “And then the storm afterward, compounding all your problems. Can you stand for me, please? Carefully.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” The visored mech set his feet on the floor and stood carefully. Now that he was aware of the problem, he could hear the parts inside shift as he rested his weight on them, and he knew that was far from normal. “Now what?”

 

“Hold still while I inspect your plating. Blue said you’ve lost a great deal of mass.”

 

“Yeah.” Jazz sighed as the medic began his visual inspection. He wanted to say that Blue talked too much, but even a blind mech could have seen the damage; there was no way he could hide it from Fixit. “Just tell me when to move.”

 

 

 

“You doing okay?” Bluestreak set a cube of energon down in front of Jazz--generously laced with some of the additives Fixit had prescribed judging by the color--and sat down next to him at the dining table.

 

“Trying not to panic, honestly.” The musician tossed down the flimsy with the list of repairs he needed and covered his face with his hands. “I could deal with some of that cost. Things would be tight, but I could do it. But all of it together? I can't pay for that and make my rent.”

 

Blue frowned. “Is there anything I can do? Aside from conjuring up a whole lot of shanix in the next couple of days?”

 

“I don't know.” Jazz uncovered his face and reached for the energon. “Carry me through the park to my place, maybe?”

 

The silver and grey mech laughed softly. “Wouldn’t that be a sight that made the neighbors talk? I'll call you a transport, Jazz. Even if you live close, you need to stay off your feet as much as you can.”

 

“I know. Believe me, I don't want to make the list of replacement parts any longer.”

 

“How bad is it?” Bluestreak and Jazz both jumped at Prowl’s voice. “My apologies, I thought you heard the door.”

 

“It's okay.” The silver mech reached door the flimsy and handed it to his partner. “It’s a lot worse than we thought. Fixit’s ready to dismantle somebody and use their parts in the repairs.”

 

Jazz let out a humorless laugh. “Well, that'd save me some money.”

 

Prowl gave the list his full attention for several kliks. “You are right that this will be quite expensive. It will not, however, be your expense.”

 

“Look, I know you've got it better than me, but I'm pretty sure that even you have to pay your own medical bills.”

 

“Indeed, we do. But that is not what I mean at all.” Prowl laid the flimsy back on the table. “Your injuries occurred due to the department’s negligence. You would be within your rights to pursue legal action, if you wished. In light of that, the department has agreed to pay for all of your repairs.”

 

“What, just like that?” The musician scoffed.

 

“It wasn't just like that.” Bluestreak sighed softly. “Prowl was making calls and arrangements all night, and he's been in with legal since a little bit before Fixit came. We just didn't want to get your hopes up, in case they were going to be difficult.”

 

“They are not going to be difficult, however, because you have a very solid case against the department if you choose to pursue it.”

 

Jazz looked from Prowl to Blue and back. “You did all that for me? You don't even know me!”

 

“I do not need to know more than you have told us to right an injustice.” The corners of the black and white mech’s lips turned up slightly. “And so I have done so.”

 

“Thank you.” The visored mech looked down into his energon for a long moment. “No one but my carrier and Blaster ever looked out for me before. It's going to take a while to really process.”

 

“Take all the time you need.” Prowl’s smile widened. “You are safe here.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jazz hummed as he walked through the park, resisting the urge to dance as well and strain his still-healing repairs. Five solar cycles and some major surgery had done wonders for his physical state, and knowing he wasn't stuck with the bill had done wonders for his mental health. 

 

His new armor still felt strange. Fixit had insisted on full replacements for his back and chest, and the new armor was thicker and made from a different alloy. He didn't weigh as much now, which would be an adjustment once he was allowed to dance again, and the new alloy was more acid tolerant than his old plating. It was also wonderful to walk on feet that he couldn't _hear_ grinding themselves apart as he used them. The medics had even made sure that his natural colors had been carefully painted back on, until his self-repair systems finished integrating everything and recolored the alloy.

 

He felt like a new mech, though Fixit assured him he still looked like the mech on his identification. 

 

Jazz felt a smile spread across his face as he stepped out of the park and onto the public walkway into the city. Prowl and Bluestreak’s house was just across the street and he could see one of the two Enforcers sitting near a window reading. 

 

The musician picked up his pace slightly, eager to see the mechs who had helped him so much, and give them the small thank you he had brought them. There wasn't any traffic to dodge at this time of day, and he crossed the street and stepped onto their porch in moments.

 

He was still smiling and humming when he knocked on the door. A few kliks later, it slid open to reveal Bluestreak.

 

The silver and grey mech looked confused for a klick, then his face broke into a bright smile. “Jazz, hi! You look great! I almost didn't recognize you with colors, though!”

 

Jazz chuckled. “Fixit swears I look the same, but I know I'm wider now.”

 

“Only a little, but it looks good on you.” Blue stepped to the side slightly and gestured for the musician to step inside. “Come on in. Prowl's reading in the dining room, and I know he'll be glad to see you, too.”

 

“Thanks, Blue.” The visored mech stepped into the house, taking a few kliks to study the entryway now that he wasn’t dissolving. “You know, for as weird as this house is, it’s kind of nice. Whoever designed it was definitely my kind of crazy.”

 

“Yeah, we like it too.” The Enforcer’s smile widened. “You remember the way to the dining room?”

 

“Down the hall, to the left, second door on the right.” Jazz began walking down the hall. “Pretty sure I only remember that because your guest room is right next to it, though.”

 

“Well, at least you know where to go if you ever have to crash here again.” Bluestreak closed the door and folllowed the musician. “Though I hope you never have to because you were caught outside again.”

 

“Me too, my mech. Me too.” Jazz grinned as he saw the taller of the two Enforcers leaning far enough back in his chair to see who was coming down the hall. “Hey, Prowl.”

 

Prowl studied the visored mech for several moments before smiling. “Hello, Jazz.”

 

“Doesn’t he look great?” Bluestreak asked brightly.

 

“He looks very good, though I would not have guessed that his primary color scheme was black and white.” Prowl stood up as Jazz entered the room, studying the musician carefully. “It suits you, as does your upgrade.”

 

“Thanks.” Jazz’s smile widened at the praise--and he realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled so much. “Fixit did some good work. It’ll look great once I can have my custom overlay put back on.”

 

“I would imagine so.” The black and white Enforcer gestured for the musician to take a chair. “So, what brings you back to our home?”

 

“Well, you bots were really good to me, way beyond what you had to do.” Jazz reached into his subspace and pulled out a box. “And I wanted to give you this, so you know how much I appreciated it.”

 

“Jazz, no. We would have done the same for any mechanism.” Prowl’s smile faded.

 

“Yeah, but you did it for me.” The visored mech set the box on the table. “I promise, I didn’t spend a credit on it.”

 

Prowl sighed. Bluestreak stepped up next to his partner and slid the box closer. “Wow, this is heavy.”

 

“Open it.” Jazz mimed lifting the lid.

 

“You will not leave it alone until we do, will you?” Prowl sounded resigned.

 

“Nope.” Jazz grinned again.

 

“Okay.” Blue tugged the box open. Then he blinked at the contents.

 

Prowl reached in and lifted out the bottle that had caught the silver and grey mech’s attention. “Vosian wine? I thought you said you didn’t spend any credits on this gift.”

 

“I didn’t.” The musician leaned back in his chair. “I traded some work at the club for Rosanna. There’s vouchers for a nice dinner at Twincast’s restaurant, too. The two of you deserved something nice, though, for giving up your time together to take care of me.”

 

“Thanks, Jazz!” Bluestreak smiled brightly and nudged Prowl with one shoulder. “Hey, handsome. You want to go out for dinner tonight?”

 

Prowl frowned slightly at his partner. “We will accept your gift on one condition Jazz.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“That you repay any future kindness with friendship.”

 

“Aw, but I like giving presents.” Jazz faked a pout for a moment. “How about both? Wouldn’t be so bad having friends like you two.”

 

“Very well.” Prowl sighed again, but he was no longer frowning. “Would you care to join us for dinner tonight, Jazz? I had already ordered a rather large meal from the new Polihexian restaurant before you came over.”

 

“Oh, that’d be great! And we could watch that new holo-drama that Ironhide loaned you!” Bluestreak perked up brightly.

 

“Well, I don’t have to be at Joyride til tomorrow, so that sounds great to me.”


	4. Chapter 4

Bluestreak was sprawled across their berth when Prowl came home, face buried in a pile of pillows and wings twitching to the beat of an obscenely loud music track. The elder Praxian felt his own sensory wings flatten against the onslaught of noise and he activated the entertainment system’s remote access to lower the volume to something that wasn't physically painful.

 

After several kliks, his partner made an unhappy noise and lifted his head from the pillows. “Prowl, I was listening to that!”

 

“You were destroying your audio receptors and giving me a processor ache. You didn't even hear me come home.” Prowl crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “What is that, anyway?”

 

“It’s Jazz’s band!” Blue sat up with a smile. “I went out and bought their album after you went on duty this morning. I really like it.”

 

The detective hummed non-committally. “I am not certain it is to my taste.”

 

“Oh you and your classic instrumentals.” The younger Praxian picked up a pillow and threw it at his partner. “At least sit down and listen to it all the way through, so you can talk about it with him. It'll make him smile.”

 

“I will listen, but _not_ at a volume that violates the city noise ordinance.”

 

“Hey, there's still five groons til quiet time goes into effect.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Are you sure you're up to this?” Jazz eyed Blaster's hand critically. “I can play lead a while longer.”

 

“Jazz, I'm never going to get my form back if I don't start playing again.” Blaster rotated his wrist and wiggled his fingers. “Look, no more clicks or hitches. I'm good.”

 

“Yeah, all right. If it starts hurting, tell me and we'll switch off.”

 

“Deal.” The red mech glanced toward the stage door looking for their drummer and froze. “Hey, I thought the Enforcers didn't need us at the trial.”

 

Jazz followed the band leader’s gaze and smile. “It's good, my mech. Those are my friends, Prowl and Bluestreak. I told you about them.”

 

“You said they were Enforcers, but I didn't expect them to show up _looking_ like Enforcers. Do you know what this will do.to the crowd?”

 

“Hopefully, it'll keep them from breaking up the club again. Twincast and I just got the new floor laid last night.” Jazz stepped away from Blaster and went to meet his friends. “Wasn't sure you'd make it tonight, mechs.”

 

“I wouldn't have missed it, though Prowl isn't big on crowds and took a little convincing.” Bluestreak grinned. “Thanks for the passes.”

 

“You bet.” Jazz focused his attention on Prowl. “I really do appreciate you being here, even though it's not your scene. You wanna watch from back here and avoid the crowd?”

 

He hadn’t realized how stiff and high the black and white Enforcer’s wings had been held until they relaxed at his words. Prowl gave the musician a small, relieved smile. “That would help, thank you.”

 

“Anytime. Hey, Blaster, you think they'll get a better view from stage right?”


	6. Chapter 6

It was late and Jazz was walking home again after their sixth consecutive night performing at Joyride. He'd only missed the shuttle by a few kliks, but they had been enough. Now he was trudging wearily down a familiar street and looking forward to falling face first into his berth.

 

Until he saw the lights on at Prowl and Bluestreak’s house again. 

 

Jazz smiled and picked up his pace, feeling a bit re-energized by the thought of popping in to see his friends for a few minutes before cutting across the park to his apartment. Between working on the last of the repairs to Rosanna’s club and entertaining the crowds, he hadn't even had time to say hello since they came to the reopening party.

 

He made his way onto their porch and knocked on the door, much more gently than he had on the night he met the two Enforcers, and rocked back and forth on his feet while he waited.

 

After almost a full groon of waiting the door finally opened and Prowl looked out at him. “Jazz. You should be in your apartment at this time of night.”

 

“I missed the public transport again.” The visored mech shrugged. “Won't be the last time, I'm sure. I wanted to stop and say hi when I saw the lights on, though. Since I haven't seen you or Blue in a few cycles.”

 

The corners of Prowl's lips quirked up in a tiny smile. “Bluestreak was plotting to come see you play again tomorrow after his shift, likely for the same reason. He is on duty tonight, though.”

 

“Well, I'll see him tomorrow then. Will you be coming too?”

 

The Enforcer shook his head. “I will be at a safety training event in Praxus starting tomorrow.”

 

“That's all right. We play all over the city, all the time. I'll get you a backstage seat whenever you want to come.” The visored mech smiled. “I better get going, though. We've got another set at Joyride tomorrow, and I promised Rosie I'd help hang her new sign before that.”

 

“You're welcome to our guest bedroom again,” Prowl told him. “It is not a hardship to have you stay.”

 

“Thanks, but I'll be all right. My apartment is just across the park, in the blue and green glass building.” Jazz pointed when Prowl stepped outside to look. “Fourth floor, so all I see is crystal trees when I look outside.”

 

“Even so, I would feel better if you stayed. It would reduce your risk of receiving a citation for violating curfew.”

 

For a moment, Jazz stared at the Enforcer. Then he laughed. “Yeah, all right. But you got to at least let me make something nice for morning fuel.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey mechs!” 

 

Bluestreak started at the sound of Jazz's voice, but Prowl merely flicked one sensory wing in irritation at the interruption and focused more intently on the data pad in his hand.

 

“Hey, Jazz.” the silver and grey mech stood up from his place on the park bench and took the visored mech by the elbow to move him away from the detective. “Prowl's been given a pretty ugly case. That's the file he's reading now. I brought him out here to the park to kind of… remind him of nicer things, but I don't think it's working. Now’s probably a really bad time to hang out.”

 

“No worries, no worries.” The visored mech glanced at the black and white Enforcer with a worried frown. “I'm on my way to work, anyway. We've got a gig over in Little Crystal City that'll keep us out most of the night.”

 

“Wow, that must be paying really well! That's great news!” Despite his worry for his partner, bluestreak smiled at his friend. 

 

“Yeah, my share will be enough to respray my custom color nanites.” Jazz sighed as he looked away from Prowl. “Look, it'll be morning before I get back to this part of town, even if that storm isn't as bad as the forecast says. Can I maybe bring by some energon goodies for morning fuel to help bring him up? I know it ain't much, but--”

 

“That would be really nice!” Blue pulled the shorter mech into a hug. “Copper and titanium are our favorites for most things. I think something soft with copper would be a nice distraction for him.”

 

“Great. I'll catch you later then. Gotta dash or I'll miss the transport to the club!” Jazz waved as he stepped away from the silver mech and ran toward the park exit.

 

Bluestreak sighed at him and turned back to Prowl. “Anything you missed in there the first time?”

 

“unfortunately, no.” The black and white mech turned of the pad at looked at his partner wearily. “What did Jazz want?”

 

“Just to say hi. He's on his way to a gig in Little Crystal City.” The younger Praxian moved back to his partner’s side. “He's going to stop by after he gets home in the morning we can have energon.”

 

“I will not have time to do more than fuel.” 

 

“I know. I just think he wants to help you remember why you do your job, even with cases like this one.”

 

Prowl nodded slowly. “Jazz is a good friend.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Don't worry. Everything’s going to be fine.” Bluestreak squeezed Prowl's hand as he led the black and white mech into the club. 

 

Prowl nodded and tried not to tense up too much. He would never be comfortable in crowds, not without dialing his sensory network down far enough to blind and deafen himself, but he wanted to be as supportive of Jazz as he could. The visored mech was his closest friend outside of Bluestreak and he very much wanted to keep it that way.

 

“Hey, look. We already know pretty much everyone here. Except for Chord and Sweep, and we still know _who_ they are.” The silver and grey mech grinned as they approached the table where Tracks was handing out drinks. “Hey, Tracks! You look a lot better than you did the last time I saw you.”

 

“Yes, my medic finally finalized my repairs and let me re-apply my color nanites.” The band manager handed them each a fizzing cocktail. “I was beginning to think I would have to hide the mirrors in our apartment before that happened.”

 

“Well, you look great. Those flames really pop.”

 

“Thank you, Bluestreak.” Tracks gestured toward the dance floor. “Please, mix, mingle. Dance if you like. Jazz will be out in a few kliks; Eject asked him to help with a project.”

 

Prowl did his best not to let himself feel like he was a peripheral accessory while the manager and his partner talked, but he was not as good at idle chatter as the younger Praxian. Instead, he looked around the room, taking in the details of the architecture, lighting and decor while there were few bot's to distract him from it.

 

“Care for a dance?” The detective was startled out of his study by Jazz’s voice. The visored mech was looking up at him with a grin and one hand extended. “Before anyone else turns up and things get too crowded to be comfortable.”

 

Prowl glanced toward his partner--still engrossed in conversation with Tracks--before nodding. “You may have to teach me the steps. I have never been fond of clubs or dancing.”

 

“I know.” Jazz’s grin shifted to a bright smile as he took the Praxian’s hand. “Makes it that much more special every time you come out for me. It means a lot.”

 

Some of his earlier discomfort faded at Jazz’s words. He _was_ The musician’s friend, despite the unlikeliness and their seemingly incompatible personalities. “It means a great deal that you invite me, as well.”

 

“Well, even if you don't come, it's nice to be included.” The musician led him to the center of the dance floor, far enough from Chord and Sweep’s flailing to be comfortable. “And I think maybe you like our music more than you let on.”

 

“When it is not being played at volumes that are physically painful, I do find that it is growing on me,” the black and white mech confessed.

 

“I knew Blue liked it loud, but that seems excessive.” Jazz was smiling, but Prowl could see concern hidden in the expression.

 

“It does not happen often. He is considerate of my needs when I am home.” The Enforcer was surprised to realize that he didn’t like seeing the worried look on Jazz’s face. “Though I am certain that our neighbors wish that it would be so quiet all the time.”

 

“I bet they do.” The worried look didn’t fall off the musician’s face completely, but Prowl felt certain that it would fade as the night wore on. Then Jazz shook his head and his dipping mood seemed to bounce back up “I thought we came out here to dance, so let’s dance. I pinged Rosie and she’s gonna play something Praxian for you. I hope you know the steps, cause I don’t!”

 

The promised musical track started in only a few kliks and Prowl found himself smiling. It was a dance he did know, and that had been popular when he was in the academy. “I do know them. Follow my lead.”

 

Jazz whooped as Prowl spun him further out onto the floor.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: incoming sads!

It was almost the twelfth groon and Jazz was worried. Not that Prowl and Blue had stood him up for morning fuel--they did that sometimes; it was a peril of their jobs--but because they hadn’t called. If they were going to be so much as ten joors late, one of them always sent a quick comm call to let him know.

 

They were supposed to have met up at the ninth groon at that cafe Bluestreak liked so much, and he hadn’t heard so much as static from either of them.

 

So, Jazz was worried as he knocked on their door. That worry grew as neither of the Praxians answered the door as quickly as normal. He was raising his hand to knock again after after several joors, when it finally slid open to reveal Bluestreak.

 

The silver and grey mech’s wings were laying flat against his back, his colors seemed faded and his optics were dim. Paired with the frown on the other mech’s face, Jazz knew he had been right to worry.

 

“Hey, Jazz.”

 

“Hey, Blue.” Jazz resisted the urge to reach out and hug the Praxian, unsure how the other mech would react. 

 

“Sorry about this morning. It just… It’s a bad time now.” Bluestreak turned away from the musician and wrapped his arms around himself. He was silent for several kliks and Jazz thought he heard the soft sound of a vocalizer resetting. “It’s probably going to be a bad time for a while.”

 

“I get it, mech. You want to talk about it?”

 

The silver and grey mech shook his head.

 

“All right. Did you have your morning fuel since you skipped the cafe?” This time Jazz allowed himself to step forward and lay a comforting hand on the other mech’s arm. 

 

Blue shook his head again.

 

“Okay. Why don’t I come in and make you some of that sweet tea you liked, then? And we can just sit together for a while.”

 

“Okay.” Bluestreak didn’t move, and Jazz had to mute his vocalizer before he could sigh at the taller mech. Instead, he carefully maneuvered into the hall and reached around the Praxian to the control panel for the door.

 

Once the door was closed, the visored mech reached for his friend’s hand. Blue let him take it without protest and Jazz’s worry ticked upward another notch. Whatever was wrong, was no little thing. “Come on. Let’s go make that tea.”

 

“Okay. Prowl’s in the shower. You should make enough for him, too.” the Enforcer’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and subdued.

 

“You got it. Tea for three, coming up.”

 

“I’m sorry I ruined your morning.”

 

“Don’t worry about it mech. Slag happens.” Carefully, Jazz led the other mech through the house’s illogical layout and settled him in a chair at the dining table. “You sit here, and I’ll get the tea started.”

 

“Okay.” Bluestreak stared down at the table, looking utterly lost.

 

The visored mech felt his spark ache for whatever the other mech was going through. He wanted to just hug his friend until Blue found his smile again, but that didn't seem likely to happen anytime soon. 

 

He patted the silver and grey mech on the shoulder gently, hoping it was at least a little comforting, before moving to the tiny fuel prep station. Bluestreak didn't even twitch as Jazz found the kettle, poured the sweet oil or added the crystallized energon. After the musician set the kettle on the heating element, he reached into the storage cabinet and pulled out three mugs.

 

Blue whined softly when Jazz set them on the table. “My sire made these. There used to be six, but we broke one when we moved to Iacon.”

 

“He always said he would make a replacement, but five was enough when all of us were in the house together.” Prowl stepped into the room, looking as upset as Bluestreak. “He will never have the chance now.”

 

The silver and grey mech whined again and turned in his chair to reach for his partner. 

 

Jazz opened his mouth to ask a question, and closed it again as Prowl held his partner. The death of a parent would definitely explain Blue’s current state. 

 

“We found out this morning, just before we were supposed to meet you.” The black and white mech looked up at Jazz’s sadly. “I apologize for forgetting you after we heard.”

 

“Neither one of you owe me an apology. I'd forget my synthesizer if I lost my carrier.” the visored mech stepped closer to the Praxians and wrapped himself around Bluestreak’s other side. “I'm so sorry, Blue.”

 

Bluestreak started wailing at Jazz’s words. The musician squeezed the silver and grey mech more tightly as Prowl began humming softly.

 

Jazz didn't want to let go when he heard the kettle began hissing. But it would be whistling in a few kliks and Blue still needed fuel.

 

Carefully, he extracted himself from the Praxians and moved back to the prep station.


	10. Chapter 10

“Do you want to know how it happened?” Prowl's question was almost a shock after the quiet that had descended after Bluestreak had fallen into recharge. 

 

Jazz hadn’t left--hadn't wanted to leave them--after the silver and grey mech had gone into recharge. Instead, he had simply moved into the sitting room with them, wanting to stay close if they needed anything. Primus knew none of their Enforcer friends were likely to have the time to help.

 

“It'll make it easier to talk about it, once Blue’s ready,” the visored mech replied softly. 

 

Prowl nodded. “It will help me now, I think. I was very close to his creators, especially after my own carrier passed on.”

 

“Then yes. I'd like to know.”

 

“There was a crash in Vos. A shuttle returning from a shipping run to one of the colony worlds suffered a navigational error, and flew straight into a group of sky dancers who were celebrating the Festival of light.” The black and white mech cycled his cooling system several times before continuing. “Six mechanisms were deactivated permanently, including the shuttle and all three of Bluestreak’s parents.”

 

“Slag, that's awful.” Jazz reached out and grabbed Prowl's hand, squeezing it gently. “So Blue’s parents were from Vos?”

 

The Enforcer gave him a small smile, obviously relieved to be asked about the _people_ rather than a more detailed account of their deaths. “Two of them were. Cloudtouch and Starweave were framed as Seekers, though they were artists rather than military mechs. Cloud was a sculptor and the creator of the mugs we used earlier. Weave was a dancer, both on the ground and in the sky. I envied those talents when I was young.”

 

Prowl cycled his vents slowly and Jazz could see the stress and pain the other mech was trying to hide. He squeezed the Praxian’s hand again. “You don't have to tell me, if it's too much right now.”

 

“After they moved to Praxus, they were as much my family as my own carrier. I want you to know them, at least a little.” The black and white mech rubbed a hand over his partner’s shoulder as he composed himself again “Bluestreak’s carrier, Chime, was Praxian and also a dancer. The met in Iacon, during a benefit performance. Cloudtouch and Starweave were smitten, and they defied their culture and traditions to court him. I understand it was quite the scandal when they trine bonded.”

 

“Huh. I always thought that trine bonding thing was a myth.” Jazz smiled weakly. “Learn something new every day.”

 

“Trine bonds are quite real, and forming a trine is the most celebrated event in a Seeker’s life. Usually.” Prowl glanced down at Bluestreak again. “Bluestreak’s family was shunned in Vos because Chime was a ground bound mech. When they discovered that Blue was on the way, they moved to Praxus rather than subject their sparkling to that sort of punishment. Seekers and Seeker-kin have always been welcomed there.”

 

“Is that where the two of you met?” 

 

“It was. My carrier was a nurse at the hospital where Chime and Bluestreak separated. I don't remember why he took me to work that day, but I was there when Cloudtouch and Starweave came into the waiting room. I had never seen Seekers before, and I thoroughly distracted them with my questions. I asked about everything I could think of, and Cloud told me later that he was grateful for me keeping them focused on something that wasn't an abnormally long spark separation.”

 

“I bet you made them worry that Blue would be the same way.” Jazz smiled toward the silver and grey mech. 

 

“If I did, they were well prepared. Bluestreak has always chattered and asked questions, though he restrains himself better now than when we were young.” Prowl echoed the musician’s smile. “He kept me from having to be embarrassed by awkward questions more than once, just by asking them himself and seemingly oblivious to the context or possible consequences. Sometimes, I do not think I would have finished my mandatory education without him.”

 

“You're a smart mech. You would have made it.” Jazz squeezed his hand again, and Prowl was surprised to realize that he visored mech hadn't let go the entire time he had been speaking. “I'm gonna go refill the coolant, if you want to tuck Blue into bed. Then you can tell me how your families got so close.”

 

“Thank you, Jazz.” The musician could still see exhaustion and sorrow on the black and white mech’s face, but he was glad to realize that the taller mech’s wings had finally relaxed a little and he was showing signs of drifting off into a nap of his own.


	11. Chapter 11

When Jazz came back with the fresh coolant and a few energon goodies to help top up their fuel levels, Prowl was curled protectively around Bluestreak’s torso and recharging. He smiled sadly at the sight--both Praxians were beyond exhausted emotionally right now, but they also looked adorable curled up together on the sofa. He also knew the black and white mech couldn't be comfortable, but it wouldn't be wise to wake him.

 

Quietly, the musician set the coolant and goodies on the small end table near the resting mechs and slipped back out of the room. He set an alarm as he walked to the guest room, so the he could make sure Prowl was up in time to call in for his shift. Then, when he was safely inside the room that had almost become his second home, he activated his comm system and dialed in a code he had known since before he could write his name.

 

 _Hello?_ His carrier sounded groggy, like he had woken her instead of his friends and he cursed himself silently for forgetting that she was working the dark shift. _Jazz, sweetspark, is everything all right?”_

 

“I'm okay, carrier. Blaster and his bits are okay, too.” Jazz closed the door and sat down on the bed. “I just… I needed to hear your voice and tell you I love you.”

 

_I love you, too. But you never just call to tell me that. What's happened?_

 

The corners of his lips quirked up slightly. He never had been able to get much past his carrier. Then he sighed. “You remember me telling you about those two Praxian friends I made, right?”

 

 _Yes._

 

“Well, Bluestreak’s parents were in an accident in Vos.” Jazz scrubbed one hand across his face. “All three of them were killed. I've been here with them half the day, helping where I can, but--”

 

 _But you needed to know I was all right._ There was no judgment in her tone as his carrier interrupted him. _As you can hear, I'm fine. Even if I haven't been recharging well the last few cycles. I have an appointment with the clinic to have my recharge coding looked over the cycle after next._

 

“Good. I'm glad you're taking care of that before it becomes a real problem.” The visored mech cycled his cooling system, trying not to give into the urge to start crying at the thought of his carrier dying. He didn't think he could take it if he lost her. 

 

 _Well someone has to stay well enough to take care of this neighborhood._ Her tone was light, and it helped his mood a little. _Do you need me to come help with anything, Jazz? I have a bit of vacation time saved up that I could use to come to Iacon if you need me._

 

“Thanks, carrier, but Tracks and Blaster are here. And Twincast and Rosie. We’ll all take care of each other.”

 

_Well, I'm just a comm call and a train ride away. If you do decide you need me, I'll be on the next transport out._

 

“You're really the best, you know that? I'll call again before you recharge tomorrow to keep you in the loop.”

 

_Thank you. And make sure you get enough recharge, yourself. Your friends need you rested and able to think more than they need you constantly at their sides._

 

“I know, carrier . I'll try to remember. Now you head back to your own recharge. I didn't mean to wake you up.”

 

 _You have just as much right to wake me when you need me now as you did as a sparkling._ Jazz could hear a smile in his carrier’s voice and it helped him feel a tiny bit better. _But I will take the suggestion. Sundown comes early this time of the cycle._

 

“That it does. Recharge well, carrier. I love you.”

 

_I love you, too, sweetspark._


	12. Chapter 12

Jazz was moving around in the fuel prep station, looking for ingredients to make the sweet gel treats his carrier had taught him to make, when Prowl stepped quietly into the room. He checked his chronometer and sighed softly; he would have been waking the Enforcer up soon anyway, but that didn't mean he liked how tired his friend looked.

 

“I'm glad you're still here,” the Praxian said. “Though I had expected you would leave for practice.”

 

“Nah, I called Blaster and told him you guys needed me.” Jazz gave his friend a smile that he hoped looked supportive instead of offensive. “He gets it. We’ll move practice around as needed, since we don't have any gigs lined up for the next meta-cycle. You want some energon?”

 

“Energon would be nice, thank you.” Prowl sat down at the dining table and rubbed his face. “I appreciate your support, Jazz, but I do not want to find out that all of you cancelled your shows so that you could be here.”

 

“We didn't. One of your coworkers caught Chord at the docks buying boosters.” Carefully, the musician measured out a few of the ingredients he'd gathered and dumped them into a cube. Then he poured energon on top and stirred as he walked it over to Prowl. “Blaster and Tracks are thinking about replacing him after this round in lockup. Here, try this. We used to use it in Tyger Pax to give us some extra kick when the nights had been rough.” 

 

The black and white mech took the cube carefully, trying and failing to hide how his hands were shaking with exhaustion. “If it works, I will have you give me the recipe so that I can post it on the department message board.”

 

“No problem, mech.” Jazz sat down next to him. “So, are you going in tonight, then?”

 

“I have to. I have to brief another detective on my current case and hand it off before we can go to Praxus to make final arrangements.” The black and white mech turned his cube between his fingers. “I would rather be working a murder case than this.”

 

“I know.” Jazz reached out and rested his hand on Prowl's wrist. “I'll stay here tonight with Blue, so you have one less thing to worry about. And then we’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you. Will we also worry about how you are paying your rent tomorrow?”

 

“I'm paid up for six meta-cycles thanks to the signing bonus that Starlight gave us. I'm here for as long as you need.” 

 

The Enforcer slumped back slightly in his seat. “Thank you. I don’t think I would be coping so well without you.”

 

“You'd do the same for me.” Jazz squeezed his friend's’ wrist again before standing up. “I'm going to run over to my apartment for a couple things before you head out. You need anything while I'm gone?”

 

“Just this.” Prowl lifted his energon cube. “Do you know the code to let yourself in if I'm gone?”

 

The musician shook his head. He hadn't ever needed their lock code; if no one was home to let him in, he didn't hang around. “Never had a need for it before.”

 

“I suppose that you have not.” The visored mech was unsurprised when a small data packet appeared in his comm queue from Prowl a klik later. “Now you are prepared, just in case. I trust that you will not abuse the privilege.”

 

“Not unless there's acid rain stripping me down to protoform,” Jazz promised. “Be back soon.”

 

 

Prowl was gone when Jazz got back from his apartment with sweet gel ingredients in hand. He let himself into the house as quietly as he could, then went to check on Bluestreak. The silver and grey mech was still in recharge on the couch, covered with a thin thermal wrap, and don't look like he had moved for the four groons he had been there.

 

Jazz had no idea how Prowl had wiggled out from under him without waking Blue up.

 

Once he was sure Bluestreak was still recharging soundly, the musician made his way to the fuel prep station. He set the ingredients on the counter and pulled up the recipe file his carrier had given him. Jazz knew the treats wouldn't heal the other mechs’ pain, but he hoped that the taste of the homemade treats would at least remind them that he was here and he cared while they were in Praxus.

 

The sweet gels were cooling on the counter when Bluestreak staggered into the dining room, exhaustion still visibly slowing him down. “Jazz? What are you doing? Where's Prowl?”

 

“I'm making treats for you and Prowl to take with you, so you've got something in your subspace for when you run low. And Prowl’s at the station. He had to go in to hand his case off.” Jazz gestured the Enforcer toward the table and chairs. “You look like you need to sit. You want me to bring you energon or anything?”

 

Bluestreak nodded slowly as he turned toward the table. “Just regular energon. I know I usually like it when you add stuff, but that just… It makes me think of my sire and I'm… I just can't yet.”

 

“I get it.” The visored mech drew a ration of plain standard energon from the prep station and carried it over to the taller mech. “Anything else I can do for you?”

 

“Just sit with me? I don't want to be alone.”

 

“You got it, Blue.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Hey mech.” Blaster slid a cube of pale pink high grade in front of him and sat down in the booth next to Jazz. “How they doing?”

 

“As well as can be expected.” The visored mech traced a finger along the edge of the cube. “Blue’s still kind of in shock, but I can't say I blame him. Prowl's doing a little better than that.”

 

“Deaths do that to people.” The red and yellow mech patted his friend on the arm. “What about you? How you holding up?”

 

“I'm _exhausted_. It's too much stuff with no outlet, you know?” Jazz finally picked up the cube and took a drink. “I need a nap and a few bars of some raunchy comedy ballad.”

 

“You're in the wrong club for comedy ballads,” Blaster replied. 

 

“Don't I know it. I'll settle for some of that fizzy pop that Twincast’s new recordicon sings.”

 

“I didn't think you'd even had time to meet Twirl, yet.”

 

“Prowl likes the maelstrom rolls at Twincast’s place, so I went by for takeout while he was on shift. She was singing while she waited tables.” Jazz shrugged one shoulder. “And you know how quick I meet new musicians when I can.”

 

“I'm still convinced someone will lure you away one of these days.” Blaster smiled. “Come on. I know practice isn't tonight, but I've still got a couple guitars in the back room. We can play a little before you head out.”

 

“Thanks, mech.” The visored mech returned the smile and picked up his cube. Quickly, he tossed back the last of the liquid and winced as it burned slightly on the way down. “We can experiment on that thing Chord and I were collaborating on before he got tossed in prison.”

 

 

“Anything I can help you pack?”

 

Bluestreak shook his head as he tucked a datapad into his subspace. “No, we've got what we need in Praxus. We kept extras at… at my creators’ house.”

 

“All right.” Jazz stepped a little further into the berthroom that Blue and Prowl shared. “What about for Prowl? Anything he's going to need?”

 

“Whatever book he's reading, maybe. For on the shuttle. Other than that, I can't think of anything.”

 

“I'll grab it off the table on our way to the station, then.” The visored mech took another step, moving close enough to grab the silver and grey mech’s hand and squeeze it gently. “I'm sure he’ll call if you need anything else.”

 

“Yeah.” Bluestreak sighed softly. “You don't have to go with me, you know. I know Prowl doesn't want me to be alone, but I can handle driving to the shuttle station by myself.”

 

“I know you can, Blue.” Jazz gave him a soft grin. “But what kind of a friend would I be, if I didn't see you off when I have the time?”

 

The Praxian’s wings fluttered and the sorrowful lines of his face softened slightly. “Thanks, Jazz.”

 

 

Bluestreak rested his head on Prowl's shoulder as the detective tried to focus on the literature file in his hand. The shuttle cabin was quiet and it should have been an excellent environment for reading, but he couldn't turn his processor away from everything they were going to have to handle over the coming days.

 

The memorial service, honestly, would be the easiest of the trine’s final affairs.

 

“I wish Jazz was here,” Bluestreak said softly.

 

The black and white mech thought of all the support Jazz had given them, without judgment or asking anything in return, and nodded. “I do too.”

 

“Do you think he’ll mind if I call him after we're done at the mortuary?”

 

“No, I do not.” Prowl reached up and rested his hand on Bluestreak’s cheek, trying to comfort his partner. “Though he might be unhappy if you call later enough that you wake him from recharge.”

 

That drew a single, soft chuckled out of the silver and grey mech. “With Jazz’s schedule, that'll never happen.”

 

Prowl was glad to hear that soft laugh, that he decided not to mention how tired Jazz had looked at the shuttle station as he waved goodbye. “You're probably right. Perhaps you should call the club instead of his personal line.”

 

“Yeah.” the good humor faded from Blue’s voice. “Starweave would have loved Rosie’s club.”

 

“Yes.” Prowl felt a renewed pain in his spark. “He would have. He would have loved the band, too.”

 

“When will it stop hurting so much when I think of anything about them?”

 

Prowl tipped his head so that it was resting against his partner’s and told him the truth. “I don't know.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Hey, Tracks.”

 

The blue mech looked up as Jazz sat back from Chord’s keyboard. “Yes?”

 

“Is there a clause in our contract with Starlight that says we can't take solo gigs once in awhile?” The visored mech felt Blaster and Sweep’s optics turn toward him in surprise as he asked the question. 

 

“Yes, there is.” Tracks tilted his head as he stared at the shorter mech. “Why? Has someone offered you a job?”

 

“No. I just… I put all my bonus down on my rent, you know, and now I need some credits to cover shuttle fare.”

 

“I wondered why you weren't going with them to Praxus in the first place,” Blaster said with a soft chuckle. “I figured we'd be rescheduling practices for cycles.”

 

“I didn't think I was going to go. I mean I didn't know Blue’s creators or anything so it didn't make sense to spend the money when we don't know when we can drop another track since Chord’s still locked up.” Jazz sighed. “But Blue’s called me twice since they got there and Prowl's called once, and I think they need a friendly face they can just fall apart around.”

 

“Well, we didn't all blow our bonuses on circuit boosters or stims.” Blaster grinned.

 

“Yeah,” Sweep added. “I mean, I blew some of mine on stims but there's enough left to spot you a loan.”

 

“Yes,” Tracks agreed. “I believe that between the three of us, we can find enough credits for a business class seat and a nice hotel.”

 

“You're the best, mechs. You know that?”


	15. Chapter 15

“Prowl, I don’t think I can do this.” Bluestreak froze at the door that led into the mausoleum where they would hold the memorial and lay his creators to rest.

 

“You can do this.” The black and white mech reached out and clasped his mate’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “You will not be alone.”

 

“I keep thinking that any time now, we’ll get a call from the hospital and this will all have been a mistake. That they’re okay and we just need to come pick them up.” The silver and grey mehc squeezed back. “But if we put them in the wall, then it’s really real and they’re not coming back.”

 

“I know, sweetspark.” Prowl used their joined hands to pull his partner into his arms and hugged him tightly. “But it is real, and the ritual is a step we have to take in order to move on. A necessary step, for all that it hurts.”

 

“But can’t it be not real for just a little longer?”

 

“Enforcers?” Prowl turned to look at the silver robed priest who had stepped out of a side door. “If you could please step into this office, we have a few last minute details.”

 

“Of course, Charity.” Suppressing a sigh, Prowl turned his partner toward the tiny office. Bluestreak thought he wanted to hold off reality a bit longer, but in truth they both needed this memorial to be _finished_.

 

 

Jazz raced through the door to the Memorial Hall and slid to a stop in front of a cleric in soft silver robes. “I'm sorry, I'm late and I'm trying to get to the service for Chime and his trine. My directions were sl--really bad, though, and I'm not sure I'm in the right place.”

 

“Be at ease friend.” The cleric gave him a smile. “You have almost arrived. Follow me.”

 

“Thanks.” The musician cycled his vents and stepped quickly after the cleric as he walked away. 

 

The robed mech led him down a long hallway and into a small atrium. Hidden off to one side of the crystals growing in a bright blue nutrient mix, was another door. The priest gestured to it. 

 

“Through the door and down the hall to the mausoleum. Cleric Charity will let you in quietly.”

 

“Thanks again. You've been a big help.” The visored mech stepped toward the door and opened it. 

 

The hallway was shorter than expected, with several doors along the right hand wall and one large door on the left. Standing in front of the large door was another cleric in the same silver robe as his guide. Jazz made his way toward the mech quickly.

 

“Are you here for the memorial?” The cleric asked as he approached.

 

“Yeah, I am. Sorry I'm late.”

 

“There is no time limit on remembering the departed.” The cleric turned to a small keypad next to the door. “Are you friend or family?”

 

“Family.” Jazz didn't hesitate over the word. Prowl and Blue were as close as family to him, even if there wasn't a spark-tie.

 

“Enter quietly to the left, then, and join your family in remembrance.” The large door slid open just enough to let Jazz slip through, and he did so as the cleric watched.

 

The mausoleum was crowded, filled with Praxians and Seekers almost from wall to wall, and for several long moments the musician couldn't even _see_ Bluestreak or Prowl. Then a large blue shuttle frame shifted to one side and he caught sight of Blue’s familiar silver and grey at the front of the room. A klik later, the visored mech saw Prowl standing behind a small podium and facing the crowd.

 

“My family and friends, thank you for coming.” Prowl’s voice was steady, but Jazz could hear the undertone of exhaustion and grief that had plagued both his friends for days. “My partner and his creators are honored by your presence and by your love for them.”

 

Prowl paused his speech, looking down at the surface of the podium. Jazz used the break to dart past the shuttle mech and into the narrow walkway that led from the door to a table holding what looked like three spark chambers. The visored mech moved quickly, whispering apologies when he bumped someone, until he reached the row of chairs he had spotted Bluestreak sitting in. 

 

When Prowl looked back up, the moment he spotted Jazz was obvious. His wings lifted slightly and his shoulders relaxed and the Enforcer looked almost relieved. The visored mech waved a few fingers in acknowledgement and continued making his way toward Bluestreak. 

 

“When I came up here to speak today, I had a different speech planned. But now, looking at all of you, it feels too impersonal to speak of sparks returning to the Well and the cycle of rebirth.” The black and white mech looked from Jazz to Bluestreak. “Instead, I will speak about love and family.”

 

A soft pink Seeker stepped aside for Jazz as he stopped to look for a way over to the empty chair next to Bluestreak without climbing over anything. “Thank you for coming,” the pastel mech whispered. “Blue and Prowl needed you.”

 

“Just wish I'd been here yesterday,” the musician replied equally quiet. Then he made his way down the row of chairs and sat down next to the silver and grey mech. 

 

Bluestreak jumped like he had been shot when the visored mech grabbed his hand and turned to stare at jazz with disbelieving optics. 

 

“Sorry I'm late,” Jazz said softly, focusing on the mech in front of him and not hearing anything Prowl was saying. “I got lost on my way from the shuttle station.”

 

“You came, though.” Bluestreak turned his hand in Jazz’s, lacing their fingers together. Then he leaned in against the visored mech’s side, seeking as much comfort as he could get. “Thank you.”


	16. Chapter 16

Praxians, apparently, had several different memorial traditions from the ones he had learned growing up in Tyger Pax. First and strangest had been watching Bluestreak tuck his creators’ spark chambers into a chamber carved into the mausoleum wall, and then watching one of the clerics seal it closed with a piece of glowing crystal.

 

Jazz had realized with a jolt a moment later that similar crystals in the walls were the only light source in the room. 

 

Second, there had been a procession of mechanisms, both ground bound and flying, making their way to a large community center. They gathered inside for a short prayer with yet another cleric and then wandered through a maze of potted crystals and sculptures that had been sent to Prowl and Blue with messages of condolences. 

 

Once the mourners exited the maze, they entered a dining hall and sat down for coolant and energon cakes. 

 

It was a stark contrast to his home’s tradition of smelting the body of the deceased and turning it into plating or ornamentation to be worn by family and friends, often followed by a wake that ran the risk of waking Unicron Himself. 

 

“What did you think?” Jazz was startled out of his observations as the pink Seeker who had spoken to him in the mausoleum approached.

 

“About the memorial?” The visored mech studied the Seeker carefully, watching for signs of malice. He wasn't going to let anyone stir up old troubles if he could help it.

 

“Yes. Praxian traditions must be as different to you as they are to me and my Trine.” 

 

“It was. I'm still trying to wrap my processor around the spark chamber thing,” Jazz confessed. “In Tyger Pax, that would have been a desecration.”

 

“In Vos, as well.” The pink mech extended a hand. “I'm Spinel, by the way. Bluestreak’s parents were my cousins.”

 

“Jazz,” the visored mech replied. “I'm sorry sorry for your loss.”

 

“Thank you.” Spinel looked down at the floor for several kliks. “I'd only just begun to get to know them again. It's still such a shock that they're gone.”

 

“I think it is for everyone.” Jazz had definitely noticed that feeling as he had walked through the maze with the other attendees. 

 

“Spinel, there you are!” A pale yellow Seeker with soft green details grabbed Spinel’s arm, startling them both. “Soar needs his pain block changed and your Sire wants to talk about the show, like he can't take care of business after the day of remembrance. We'd better get scarce before he finds you.”

 

“Jazz, I apologize for my trinemate’s rudeness.” The pink Seeker frowned. “This is Sunbeam, and he is unfortunately right. Soar is still recovering from the crash, and well. My sire shouldn't be doing business when we haven't even left the temple grounds yet.”

 

“It's all right, mechs.” The visored mech was silently relieved. He hadn’t really known what to say when Spinel started to sound upset. “Take care of your third. I'm sure we’ll see you again before everyone leaves Praxus.”

 

The Seeker smiled weakly in reply. “Thanks. I hope so too.”

 

As the pastel mechs walked quickly toward the exit, Jazz turned and made his way toward the table where Prowl and Bluestreak had been seated with an older Praxian. He didn't recognize the third Praxian, but the older mech had one arm around Blue and was holding him close.

 

“Jazz!” Prowl stood as soon as he spotted the musician and gestured for him to join them. “I was beginning to think you might have gotten turned around in the maze.”

 

“No, I ran into Spinel and we talked a little.” The visored mech pulled out a chair and sat down. 

 

“Is he doing okay?” Bluestreak asked softly. “He was pretty upset last night.”

 

“I don't know him well enough to be sure,” Jazz replied. “But I'd guess not really.”

 

The silver and grey mech nodded. “Will you remind me to call him later?”

 

“Sure, I'll try to remember.” The visored mech nodded his thanks as a cleric set down a cup of coolant and a plate of bite size cakes in front of him. Then he looked at the older mech, taking in the soft silver plating and bright red chevron that he shared with Bluestreak. “I'm Jazz, currently from Iacon.”

 

“Sigma,” the older mech replied. “Bluestreak is my sparkling sparkling.”

 

The musician sipped his coolant and studied the older mech for a moment. “I don't remember seeing you during the ceremony.”

 

“You wouldn't.” Sigma rubbed Bluestreak’s shoulder gently. “I was the hooded priest, who sealed the spark chambers in the vault.”

 

“Ah, that makes more sense. Couldn't figure out why you and Prowl both left Blue alone out there.”

 

Bluestreak raised his head and frowned. “It wasn't like that.”

 

“And he knows that now,” Prowl interrupted gently. “He doesn't know all of our customs, though, and things that are normal to us might be offensive in Tyger Pax.”

 

The silver and grey mech lowered his head again, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, Jazz. I know that if you were upset, that it was because you were worried about me.”

 

“You're stressed out.” The visored mech shrugged one shoulder. “I can handle a little snappishness while you're dealing with things.”

 

“You are a good friend,” Sigma told him.


	17. Chapter 17

Bluestreak held Jazz’s hand as they walked from the shuttle station to the small hotel the musician was staying in. Prowl walked slightly behind them, optics taking in everything around them habitually. The Praxians were both quiet, though they didn't have the same melancholy of the past few days, and Jazz was content to give them space to think or to finally relax for a few joors.

 

The hotel lobby was empty of anyone but the single clerk at the counter. He gave the group a bored look as the three of them walked past and Jazz waved to him almost absently. Hopefully taking a pair of Enforcers up to his room wasn't about to cause any problems.

 

“Is it okay if we come in for a little bit?” Blue asked softly as they stopped in front of the the glass elevator that would take them up to Jazz’s room. 

 

“Kind of assumed that was the plan,” the visored mech replied with a small smile. “Though I bet you're the kind of bot who walks his date all the way to the door and waits for the lock to click.”

 

“Thank you,” Prowl replied when Blue glanced at the floor with an embarrassed smile. “Neither of us is really ready to go back yet.”

 

“Hey, no problem mechs.” Jazz let the black and white mech’s gratitude for Bluestreak’s smile go unmentioned. He was just as glad to see it as the detective. “I don't even mind if you crash all night.”

 

“They'll probably charge you extra if we do,” Bluestreak said, but he didn't argue the invitation. 

 

“Probably,” the visored mech agreed. He gestured the Praxians into the room ahead of him as the door slid open. “I've got enough to cover about ten extra cycles if I need it, though. It's not a problem.”

 

“There is no reason for you to be charged for us to stay the night when we have lodgings of our own.” Prowl let Bluestreak step inside first, then followed. 

 

The silver and grey mech sighed. “Prowl's right. We don't need to stay, even if the calm is really nice.”

 

“Well, we'll just have to see how the evening plays out.” Jazz followed both Praxians inside, then turned to type a few instructions into the lock’s keypad. Prowl and Blue wouldn't be getting disturbed by anyone or anything as far as he was concerned. When he turned back around, the Enforcers were settling gently onto the edge of the padded recharge berth. “What, does it smell bad? I didn't really have time to try it before I dashed back out for the ceremony.”

 

“It's not that,” Bluestreak replied softly. 

 

“There is only one chair.” Prowl pointed to the small table opposite the berth, which held a small lamp and had a single chair pushed under it. 

 

Jazz smiled and shook his head. “I keep telling you mechs that my home is your home. That includes hotels, tour buses and anything else. Just relax and get comfortable. I'll turn on some mindless show and we can split the fizzing candies Tracks gave me on my way out of town.”


	18. Chapter 18

Jazz watched through a crack in the window shade as the day cycle lights came up slowly, simulating the sunrises that their long-dead star had once given them. He hadn't planned on being awake at dawn, but he had come online when Blue had wrapped an arm around his chest, and then he hadn't had the spark to disturb the other mech. A quick glance around had revealed Prowl, slumped down in the desk chair, equally deep in recharge.

 

Jazz had started composing a new song in his head--faster, like some of Twirl’s pop songs, but slightly melancholy--until the lights came up.

 

A few moments later, he heard the distinctive patter of raindrops and sighed. Unscheduled acid fall meant no time in that outdoor cafe he'd spotted and none of the sweet tea Bluestreak liked so much first thing in the morning. He had hoped to treat Prowl to a few of the local pastries he had flubbed before ...well, before. 

 

On the other hand, it was nice knowing they were here with him, safe and _resting_ before they had to face the real world again.

 

“Jazz.” Prowl's voice was soft, pitched not to wake Blue.

 

“What's up?” He hadn't even realized the black and white mech had come back online yet.

 

“You should recharge. The two of you have only been resting for three groons.” 

 

“No wonder the melody felt draggy when I tried to put it together.” Jazz smiled slightly. “But if you've been awake long enough to know that, you need to recharge too.”

 

“I'm fine.” Prowl shook his head.

 

“You're not. There's plenty of room on the berth, Prowl. Come get some real recharge. Everything out there will happen soon enough.”

 

“And hurry up, so I can go back to recharge.” Bluestreak grumbled, half-awake and frowning. 

 

The black and white mech sighed softly and stood up. “As you wish.”

 

Jazz watched as Prowl took the two steps between the chair and the berth and crawled onto the soft padding. Bluestreak made an unhappy noise against the musician’s chest at the motion and the black and white mech gave the silver and grey mech a fond smile as he crawled up behind him. Then, in a move Jazz was sure he wasn't even flexible enough for, Prowl ducked between Blue’s sensory wings and snuggled up against the silver mech's back.

 

Bluestreak sighed softly at his partner’s touch.

 

The visored mech reached out as Prowl wrapped an arm around Blue’s waist and rested his hand over the detective’s once Prowl was settled. Prowl looked up and gave him a soft smile before powering down his optics.

 

A moment later, Jazz did the same, and let the falling rain lull him back to recharge.


	19. Chapter 19

Bluestreak woke slowly, feeling truly rested for the first time in days. He also felt very warm, and the plating under his cheek didn’t smell like the polish Prowl had started using after they met Tracks. It was strange, and enough to bring him fully online fairly quickly.

 

The silver and grey mech blinked a few times in surprise, when he realized he was staring at ivory and gunmetal plating instead of familiar black and white.

 

“Morning, Blue. Well, afternoon really.” The Enforcer relaxed at the sound of Jazz’s voice, as it reminded him that he had fallen into recharge with his head on the musician’s shoulder during the video drama. “Prowl went off for fuel a little while ago. You recharge all right once we stopped talking?”

 

Vaguely, he remembered telling the two of them to be quiet and he nodded as he sat up. “Yeah. Thanks for being my pillow all night. You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“You were actually recharging for a change.” Jazz sat up and smiled at him. “I didn’t want to wake you, and I didn’t really mind.”

 

“Did Prowl get any recharge?” The Enforcer stretched to loosen the cables in his wing joints before they stiffened up too much from recharging on the plushly padded berth. 

 

“Yeah, I got him to snuggle up with you, and he was out like a newspark before I powered down.”

 

“Oh good. I worry when he doesn’t recharge. And then I don’t recharge right, which makes him worry and that makes it even harder for him to recharge and it just gets awful. Thanks for making him come to berth”

 

“Well, if I had left him, he probably would have gone to recharge in the chair, but you’re welcome.” A soft knock interrupted Jazz and the visored mech rolled off the berth to answer the door. “This is probably Prowl with our fuel.”

 

The musician opened the door quickly and then reached out quickly to take a carrier filled with disposable thermal cups from Prowl’s hand. The black and white mech smiled gratefully. “Thank you. I almost lost them more than once on the way back.”

 

“I don't doubt it.” Jazz looked pointedly at the pastry box and the two bags perched on top of it. “What did you do, buy out the shop?”

 

“I couldn't decide what you might want,” Prowl confessed. “While I was standing at the counter, I realized that I haven’t paid as much attention to your preferences as you have to ours.”

 

“I don't think Jazz _has_ a favorite treat,” Bluestreak interrupted. “I don't think I've ever seen him order the same thing twice.”

 

Jazz chuckled and stepped back so that Prowl could step inside. “Blue, you're not wrong. I'll try anything once, but I only order it twice if I'm not sure about it. That's why Tracks doesn't let me order catering for anything anymore.”

 

“I sense that there is a story there.” Prowl carried the pastries over to the table. “Perhaps you can tell it while we fuel.”

 

“Especially if it's funny,” the silver mech added. “I think we could use a laugh.”

 

“Yeah, all right.” The musician grinned. “But never, ever tell Tracks that I told you.”


	20. Chapter 20

When the chime sounded to announce a guest at the front door, Bluestreak was actually relieved. He had been alone in his parents house for too long after they had all left Jazz’s hotel room. They had come to the house together, but Prowl had left to meet with the real estate agent who would handle selling the house since they couldn’t afford the taxes on two pieces of property, and Jazz had volunteered to see to the distribution of the plants and sculptures that had been sent to the memorial service.

 

Blue both hoped and dreaded that Jazz would decide to keep at least one of the potted trees; there had been a few that had been as bright and beautiful as his creators had been. He forced himself away from that train of thought and turned toward the door. If Jazz wanted one of the plants, he was welcome to it--though Blue would most likely ask him to keep it at the apartment for a while.

 

The chime sounded again as the silver and grey mech reached for the keypad to unlock it. He hadn’t thought he had taken very long, but apparently he had been very lost in his thoughts.

 

Spinel smiled at him as the door slid open to reveal the pink Seeker. “Bluestreak, hello! I was beginning to think that maybe I had missed you.”

 

“No.” Bluestreak shook his head. “Just packing up their things and thinking too much. You want to come in? There's plenty of space.”

 

“I would like that, thank you.” The Seeker stepped inside as the Enforcer turned to make space for him in the entryway. “Did your creators have to commission a special house to have enough space for their wingspans?”

 

“No. They bought it when I was about two vorns old.” Bluestreak closed the door and gestured Spinel further inside. “There were a couple of walls that they knocked down, but that was it. Seekers are fairly common in Praxus since the current Winglord ascended, or so I was told.”

 

“I'm glad to hear it. Praxians are a lovely people, but it gets very lonely away from your own people sometimes.” 

 

The silver mech nodded. “I'm know what you mean. I love Iacon, but sometimes things are just… wrong.”

 

The pink mech looked around at the house with obvious interest as they walked. “Do you ever regret moving away?”

 

“Sometimes, when I think about how much time I missed out on with my creators.” Blue sighed softly. “But mostly no. We wouldn't have made the friends we did or gotten the great careers we have in Praxus. Jazz might not even be alive if we hadn't been at home the night we met!”

 

“That sounds… terrible.” Spinel’s wings shivered slightly.

 

“It would have been. He was caught in an acid storm on his way home from a concert.” The Enforcer smiled at the memory. “Prowl and I were so angry, because he should have been shuttled home after he was questioned but they messed everything up. We took care of him, though.”

 

“The three of you must have been destined to be together.” The Seeker smiled. 

 

“We are pretty inseparable now days,” the Praxian agreed. “Speaking of Jazz, he made this huge batch of sweet energon tea before he left. Want some?”

 

Spinel blinked at the subject change. “I don't know. I've never had sweet energon tea. We don't make it that way in Vos.”

 

“It's not really something they do in Iacon, either, but I guess it's really popular in Tyger Pax and Jazz took us to a cafe where I tried it once and I was totally hooked.” Bluestreak’s earlier smile stretched into an enthusiastic grin. “Want to give it a try?”

 

“All right.” The pink mech mirrored his cousin's grin. “The worst that can happen is that I don't like it.”

 

“Yeah! And then while we're having tea, you can tell me why you were asking all those questions about the house and us moving to Iacon.”

 

“Was my ulterior motive that obvious?”

 

“A little, yes. But I was trained to listen for that kind of thing, too.” Bluestreak shrugged. “It's okay. We’re still getting to know each other.”

 

“I wish my family hadn't been so horrible and we could have known each other all along.” Spinel crossed his arms over his chest, gripping his elbows tightly. “My Trine should have been sparkling sitting for you once you were framed.”

 

“Maybe so, but we're here now, and that's more important to me than wishing things were different.” Blue stopped walking and turned around to hug the Seeker. “I didn’t even know I had so much family, but now I have you and your trine.”

 

The pink mech leaned heavily on the a grey shoulder for several kliks before finally unfolding his arms and returning the embrace. “I promise that I will do my best to deserve to be called family.”

 

“I know you will. I mean, you were already doing that by reconnecting with my parents.” Bluestreak pulled back just enough to to smile at the Seeker again. “Now, I think we were going to have Jazz’s tea before things got sad for a klik?”

 

“That isn't even a good distraction.” Spinel poked him in the chest, but he was smiling as he drew away from the hug. “Tea, and are there maybe any of those lacy silicone wafers Star used to carry all the time?”

 

“Yeah, there are.” For a moment Bluestreak’s spark ached at the memory of his creator sharing the thin treats with him over steaming cups of spiced energon. “I think we found seven or eight boxes of them. You want to take some back to Vos with you?”

 

“No.” The pink mech shook his head. “We, my Trine I mean, we aren't going back to Vos. We decided last night after the ceremony. That's part of why I came to see you today.”

 

“Oh?” The Enforcer started walking toward the kitchen again, glad to have at least a small distraction from his new surge of grief.

 

“Yes. My sire… he's cold, but I'm sure you saw that. Anything that isn't a credit doesn't hold his attention for more than a klik and he insists that he needs to be our stage manager and keeps trying to pressure us into a signing a contract and, and…” Spinel’s voice wavered for a moment. “I'm not his offspring, I'm just just another profit margin. My whole trine is. We don't want to live like that anymore.”

 

“I don't blame you. That sounds awful.” Bluestreak gestured to one of the taller stools at the counter that was built to Seeker preferences. “You sit, I'll get the tea. And tell me how I can help.”

 

“That is why I came over.” The pink mech smiled softly. “My Trine and I heard that you were selling this house. We were hoping you might take it off the open market and allow us to purchase it in a private sale.”

 

The Enforcer blinked at his cousin as he reached into a cabinet for a pair of cups. “You want to buy the house?”

 

“And the furniture, if you can bear to part with it.” The corners of the dancer's lips turned down slightly. “We can offer you a fair price. We're not expecting a hand out or trying to cheat you.”

 

Blue blinked again. “No, I wasn't worried about that! I was just surprised. Our real estate agent said we would probably have a lot of trouble selling it. It needs some repairs.”

 

“Repairs that we would be more than willing to make, especially now that I've seen it. This place is perfect for a trine, and a family.”

 

Spinel’s words made Bluestreak's spark ache again with longing for his creators as he nodded. “The school is nice, too. Once you need it.”

 

“Does that mean you'll sell it to us?” The pink mech’s wings twitched up hopefully. 

 

“I don't know why not.” quickly, Bluestreak activated his comm system and sent a message to Prowl, asking him to as their agent to take the house off the market. He would call and explain after they had discussed more details. “Prowl is at the real estate office now, so I asked him to have our agent take it off the market for now.”

 

“Thank you. That won't cause problems, will it?”

 

“It shouldn't. The house hasn't even been listed for more than a solar cycle.” The Praxian finally took the glasses out of the cabinet and reached for the pitcher of tea Jazz had left on the counter. “Though our agent probably thinks I've changed my mind about it now. It's not a big deal.”

 

“It is to me. I don't want to cause you any more problems.” Spinel sighed. “Things are hard enough right now, for both of us.”

 

“Trouble would be getting called back to duty early because of riots or something. This is just… life.” Bluestreak tried to sound casual and knew he had failed. He was going to be emotionally raw for a while yet, no matter how normal things seemed. Eager for a topic change, he slid his cousin’s tea across the counter top. “Here, tell me what you think.”

 

The Seeker picked up the glass and stared at the purple drink skeptically. “Are you sure this is safe?”

 

“I drink it all the time.” The silver mech lifted his own glass to his lips and took a sip, savoring the flavor of Jazz’s secret recipe. A moment later Spinel copied the action.

 

“This is very good!” The dancer smiled with delight. “I'll have to get your trinemate to teach me how to make it before you all leave.”

 

“...my what?” Bluestreak blinked in surprise again.

 

“Jazz, your trinemate. Or do you call them something different here in Praxus?”

 

“I think maybe we have our lines crossed somewhere?” The Enforcer frowned in confusion. “Prowl and I are pair mated. We don't have a trine with anyone.”

 

“You don't?” Spinel stared for a few kliks and then buried his face in his hands. “Primus, I'm so sorry, Blue. The three of you _act_ like a trine, so I just assumed you were.”

 

“It's okay. Jazz is just our really good friend,” Bluestreak told the other mech. “He's like family, but no trine bonds.”

 

“Oh. That makes sense, then. My Trine is never going to let me live this down, though.” Spinel lifted his head and gave the silver and grey mech and embarrassed grin.


	21. Chapter 21

“Bluestreak?” Prowl called out into the seemingly empty house. He knew the other mech hadn’t planned to go anywhere else, but after his message about taking the house off the market, the black and white mech felt a trickle of worry about Blue’s whereabouts. 

 

He waited several kliks and was about to call out again, when he heard his partner's familiar laugh. It was followed by another laugh in an unfamiliar voice.

 

Rather than relieving him, the unfamiliar voice made Prowl worry more. Bluestreak was doing his best, but he was still vulnerable and could be taken advantage of while he or Jazz were not around. 

 

“Blue?” The elder Praxian made his way toward the sound of Bluestreak’s voice. 

 

The laughter cut off quickly and there was a reply a moment later. “We’re out on the deck, Prowl!”

 

If Bluestreak and his unknown guest were on the outside deck, that would explain why his partner hadn’t heard him come in. Prowl still wasn't sure how safe the silver and grey mech was, though, so he prepared himself for anything.

 

Then he made his way through the main rooms of the house and out to the deck. 

 

When he stepped outside, the black and white mech finally began to relax. Bluestreak was sitting in the wide deck chair Cloudtouch had always favored, and his cousin Spinel was perched on the decorative railing the way Prowl himself had done when he was younger. Both mechs were still smiling about whatever had made them laugh, and the older Enforcer couldn't suppress a smile of his own at the sight of his partner looking truly happy again--even if was only temporary. 

 

“Good cycle, Spinel. Bluestreak didn't tell me you were coming by.”

 

“He didn't know,” the pink mech replied. “I dropped in on him like a gyrofalcon.”

 

The description made Blue laugh again, and Prowl wondered what story he had missed. “I see. Will you be staying for evening fuel?”

 

“No, I have to get back to my trinemates soon.” The smile fell away from Spinel’s face. “Sunbeam needs a break, but we still can't leave Soar on his own yet.”

 

“They would be welcome as well,” Prowl told him.

 

“Absolutely!” Bluestreak agreed. “And then you could both have a little break, cause we would be there to watch, too.”

 

“That's very kind of you, but I don't want me or my trine to be a burden.” Spinel looked away from the Praxians. 

 

“You and your trine would not be a burden,” Prowl replied. “We would not have offered if that was how we felt.”

 

“Thank you,” the pink mech said after a few kliks of silence. “I keep forgetting how compassionate you two can be, because my family _isn't_. I guess I can call and see what they think?”

 

“Sure,” Bluestreak replied. “there's a comm console in the main room if you need it.”

 

 

 

“Hey, Twincast, give me a klik. Blue’s calling.” Jazz muted the call on the temple’s video screen and focused his attention on his personal comm system. “Hey Blue, what's happening?”

 

 _“We’re having Spinel and his trine over for evening fuel tonight.”_ Bluestreak sounded a little happier than he had earlier in the day and Jazz smiled. _”I was wondering if you could stop at that big outdoor market by the temple on your way to the house and pick up something nice to go with those cakes we found in the cabinet today.”_

 

“Yeah, I can do that.” The musician nodded to himself, thinking about the kinds of extras his carrier would have served with cakes. “Something savory sound good to you?”

 

_”That sounds fine. Oh, and maybe some heavy metal topping if you have enough credits. Soar’s self-repair is probably burning through those like scraplets.”_

 

“Can do. Hey, while I got you on the line, would you be all right with Twincast taking some of the memorial sculptures? He and the girls really liked the art when I was sharing pictures.”

 

There was a long silence before the Praxian answered. _”I don't mind, as long as he promises not to put them in the restaurant and Rosie promises not to put them in the club.”_

 

“Sounds fair. I'll let him know, and head out of here. They can get back to us tomorrow.” Jazz tried to put as much smile in his voice as he could so that Blue wouldn't dwell on having the memorials moved so close to home. “Give me about fifteen joors in the market and another ten on the public transport and I'll meet you at the house.”

 

_”Thanks, Jazz. See you soon.”_

 

“See you soon.” The visored mech closed the private line and turned back to the screen. “Sorry about that. Apparently we're having company over for evening fuel. Back on topic, though. Blue says you can have those sculptures as long as they don't end up in the club or the restaurant. I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to run into them accidentally.”

 

“Of course, Jazz.” Twincast nodded. “Rosanna and I will go over the list again and send you our choices. Is tomorrow soon enough?”

 

“Yeah, that's fine. I've got to head out now, though. Blue’s got me picking up side dishes and I want to see if I can find any of that candy Rosie likes for her sparkday.”

 

“I can't tell if you're spoiling her or keeping the band in her good graces.” The recordicon host chuckled. “I'll talk to you tomorrow. Tell your Praxians I'm thinking about them.”

 

“I will. Kiss the girls on the head for me.”

 

Twincast nodded again and cut the connection. 

 

“One of these days, I'm going to get mad when he does that.” Jazz turned off the console and left to go find Sigma to let him know that the sculptures would be spending another night in the storage room.

 

He didn't think the old priest would mind; unlike Blue, Sigma seemed to want the reminders of his sparkling around.


	22. Chapter 22

When Jazz stepped off the transport in front of the house, the pale yellow Seeker he had seen with Spinel at the memorial was struggling to guide a small anti-gravity sled up the stairs to the front door. The bright green mech riding on the sled was frowning, and looked just this side of screaming in frustration. 

 

“Here, mechs, let me give you a hand.” Jazz dashed forward and grabbed the nearest corner of the sled, hoisting it up waist level and evening it out. “These things never were any good on an incline. A self-balancing hover chair is better.”

 

“This is what they gave us at the hospital.” The yellow mech sighed. “We didn't think we would be using it this long. Thank you for your help.”

 

“No problem. I think it'll be easiest if we head up sideways and hold the sled level between us.”

 

“ _Thank you,_ ” The green mech said emphatically. 

 

“You're welcome.” The musician nodded to the yellow Seeker to take a step with him. “You two are Spinel’s trinemates, right?”

 

“Yes,” the green Seeker replied. “He's Sunbeam and I'm Soar. You're Jazz, right?”

 

“Thats me. You three have an interesting color combination. Bet it's real optic catching on stage.”

 

“And in the sky,” Sunbeam agreed as they reached the top step. “But we won't be dancing again anytime soon.”

 

Jazz smiled warmly as he released his end of the sled to let the anti-gravs re-engage. “Nah, you'll be practicing again as soon as those wings get finished up.”

 

Soar looked away from the visored mech, clearly upset. “I don't… I don't know if I can.”

 

“From one artist to another, I know you can.” The musician smiled again. “You might just need a change of scenery first.”

 

Sunbeam was staring at him when Jazz looked away from Soar. “You really believe that?”

 

“I really do. It's going to be hard work, but you three are dancers. Your ventilation systems run on hard work.”

 

“Thank you,” Soar said again. “You're the first person outside the trine to say so.”

 

“I'll say it again, anytime you need.” Jazz turned to open the door. “Blue? Prowl? We're here!”

 

Bluestreak and Spinel appeared in the doorway a moment later. 

 

“You should have commed me!” The pink Seeker pinned his trine with a frown.

 

“It's all right,” Sunbeam replied. “We only got here a few kliks before Jazz. He helped us upstairs.”

 

“See, I told you.” Blue nudged his cousin's shoulder. “Now you show your trine to the patio and Jazz and I will finish in the kitchen.”

 

 

“I am glad you insisted that your cousins stay for evening fuel.” Prowl smiled slightly as he settled the last of the plates into the cabinet. “After getting to know them better, I have no arguments against letting them buy the house.”

 

Blue smiled in return, and didn't remark on how the older Praxian had already fallen into the Vosian habit of referring to an entire trine as the same familial relation. “Good. I didn't think you would, but you have as much say as me since they left it to both of us.”

 

“It helps that they want us to be involved in their lives.” The smile fell away from the detective’s face. “I feel like I grew up here, and never seeing the house again was something I was struggling with.”

 

“I wish you had told me that before.” The silver and grey mech reached for his partner's hand and squeezed it gently. “We didn't have to sell it right away, or at all. I just knew that we couldn't really afford the upkeep and the taxes on two houses.”

 

“This turned into a better solution.” Prowl turned away from the cabinet and let Bluestreak pull him into a hug. “Your parents would have wanted to help them leave Vos.”

 

Blue nodded. “They would have added on another whole wing to the house, if they needed it. Still, you should tell me things like that. Before I do something like let them keep your favorite crystal sculpture or those plates made from the imported wood you think I don't know you love.”

 

“I am trying not to be selfish.”

 

“Prowl, my cousins need a house, not all the things that help us remember how much we loved my parents.” The younger mech leaned his head his partner’s shoulder. “You can be selfish for a change. Besides, Spinel and I packed those up and sent them off with the shipping agency before you got home.”

 

“Thank you.” The small smile returned to Prowl's face. “I hope you were going to tell me before I reported them stolen.”

 

“I would have.” Bluestreak sighed softly. “It just turned into a busy night.

 

“So it did. And we will have an equally busy day tomorrow.”

 

“Is this your way of saying that we aren't going over to Jazz’s hotel to stay up late and watch entertainment vids?”

 

“Yes, I believe it is. We should do our best to recharge, so that we are ready when Jazz shows up with spiced energon and pastries in the morning.” The black and white mech turned his partner toward the hall that led to the room they had shared since Bluestreak was old enough for overnight visits. “I also thought it might benefit your cousins if we hired a private transport to pick them up for our meeting with the realtor and I want to come online early enough for that.”

 

“From the way you're acting, I'm pretty sure they're your cousins now, too.” the silver mech grinned and let his partner lead him to the berthroom. 

 

They stepped inside a few moments later, and both Praxians sighed softly. This room would change after they left, and neither of them was ready for it.

 

“Spinel said something kind of weird to me today,” Bluestreak said, breaking the melancholy silence as Prowl turned on the berthroom lights. “And now I can't stop thinking about it.”

 

“That's not abnormal for you,” the black and white mech teased gently. “What did he say?”

 

“That he thought we--you and me and Jazz--were a trine. He said we act like one, and so he thought we were.”

 

Prowl turned to face his partner and cocked his head curiously. “A trine?”

 

The silver and grey mech nodded. “He was really embarrassed when I told him we weren't and that we weren't even looking for a third, but I can't stop wondering if maybe there isn't something there. I mean we've never been this close to anyone before, not both of us.”

 

“Jazz is someone special.” Prowl smiled and crossed the room to the berth, pulling Blue with him. “He would be an excellent third, if you decided that you want a trine.”

 

“But what about you? I don't want things to go wrong like they did before.”

 

“Jazz is not Speedline.” The detective used the arm still wrapped around his partner to hug him gently. “I believe that of all the possible candidates on Cybertron, he would be the most well-suited for both of us. And very little would have to change.”

 

“What if it freaks him out?”

 

“If I have learned anything about Jazz these past few vorns, it is that things do not freak him out. And even if he says no, he will still be our friend.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.” Bluestreak pulled away from Prowl and crawled into the berth. “I just never even thought of it, and now I'm afraid that he's going to just ditch us.”

 

“Jazz is not Speedline,” Prowl repeated. Then he crawled into the berth and pulled a thermal wrap up over both of them. The silver and grey mech curled against him after the black and white settled down. He sent a remote command to the lights to switch them off and wrapped his arms around Bluestreak again. “And nothing needs to change.”

 

Blue’s reply was soft and hesitant. “But what if I want it to?”


	23. Chapter 23

It was a careful process to pack up the mementos that the Prowl and Bluestreak wanted to keep and move his cousins into the house. Jazz had used his contacts to move things from Praxus to Iacon with a minimal amount of cost, and then extended the favor to Spinel, Sunbeam and Soar to bring their belongings quietly from Vos.

 

The transfer of ownership for the house had been completed for two full solar cycles before Spinel’s sire found out what they were doing. No one was surprised when he disowned the pink mech.

 

“I’m glad I don’t have to deal with him unless I want to, now,” Spinel confessed the next morning over energon and the pastries Jazz had taught him to make. The others nodded their understanding and didn’t press him.

 

They spend thirty cycles in Praxus before the last of Blue’s parents affairs was finished, and once ti was time to leave, the younger Praxian stood on the front steps facing his cousins and feeling lost.

 

“It’s going to be so strange not having the three of you here,” Spinel said, pulling Bluestreak into a hug. 

 

“I know. Our house is going to feel so empty when we get back to Iacon.”

 

“We’ll come visit once my repairs are finished.” Soar twitched the frames that would support his wing replacements in a few more days. Then he stepped forward and nudged Spinel gently until his trinemate let him hug Bluestreak, too. “We haven’t been to Iacon in vorns.”

 

“Jazz knows all the best places to visit. You’ll all have a great time.” The silver and grey mech gave Soar a sad smile and turned to Sunbeam with his arms extended. “I’m going to miss you all so much.”

 

“We’re going to miss you too,” the yellow Seeker assured him. “Promise you’ll call when you get home.”

 

“I’ll do you one better, and call when I’ve dropped them off at the house and when I get to the club for practice,” Jazz said, stepping up for his own round of hugs. “You all better remember what I told you when you’re ready to get back on stage and call us. We’d love to play a set for you to dance to.”

 

“We will.” Spinel smiled brightly. “It’ll be such a different style than what we’re known for that it’s the perfect way to symbolize our new life.”

 

“Good.” The visored mech smiled as brightly. 

 

“If you need anything,” Prowl added, “Please call us.”

 

“You’ve done so much already, Prowl.” Spinel and Sunbeam both looked slightly embarrassed as the pink mech spoke. “You don’t need to do more.”

 

“Perhaps that is true, but that does not mean that we would not _want_ to do more.” The black and white mech was taken by surprise when Spinel darted forward and wrapped his arms around him. 

 

“Thank you, Prowl.” The Seeker said. 

 

“You’re welcome.” The Enforcer replied. 

 

The transport they had chartered landed behind them a moment later, interrupting any additional conversation.

 

“Do _not _forget to call when you’re home,” Spinel reminded them, letting Prowl go.__

__

__“We will not.” Prowl assured him. Then he waved to Sunbeam and Soar before turning to board the shuttle._ _

__

__“Goodbye!” Bluestreak waved to his cousins quickly and followed his partner before he could start crying._ _

__

__“Enforcers.” Jazz chuckled and smiled at the Seekers. “I’ll talk to all you soon. Take care of you.”_ _

__

__“Safe flight and strong winds,” Spinel replied. “We’ll be waiting for your comm.”_ _


	24. Chapter 24

One thing that Jazz realized as he walked--on purpose--from Joyride to his apartment was that Iacon was _loud_. Praxus had its share of city noises, but it didn't have the same day-and-a-half busy cycle filled with the noise of a city that didn't really rest. He wondered how his friends could even stand it, after growing up in Praxus’ more subdued gardens and performance halls. Even he was feeling strangely bothered by it, and they'd only been gone for thirty cycles.

 

He continued comparing the cities as he walked, until a ping to his personal comm interrupted his appreciation of Praxus’ wide boulevards. He smiled when he checked the identification code and answered.

 

“Hey, Blue. What's going on?”

 

 _”Hey, Jazz.”_ The musician could hear the other mech's smile in Bluestreak’s voice. _“I thought you would probably be out of practice now, so I wanted to see if you wanted to come over and keep me company while Prowl’s stuck at the station having a surprise meeting.”_

 

“Meetings are the worst. We have one with the production company tomorrow to decide what to do with Chord.”

 

_”I heard from a friend in vice that they caught him buying boosters right after he got out again. I'm sorry.”_

 

“We did our best to get him to clean up.” Jazz shrugged knowing Bluestreak would interpret the pause correctly. “Nothing else we could have done, really.”

 

_”I'm still sorry. I know he was your friend.”_

 

“Best percussionist in Iacon, too. Maybe once his processor's right, he can come back.” The visored mech shrugged again. “Anyway, you wanted to do more than talk about the band. You want to meet at your place or mine?”

 

_”I think our house. Last time I was at the apartment, I broke the strings on that imported guitar thing, remember?”_

 

“That was as much my fault as yours. I shouldn’t have had it hanging so low. I forget how tall you two are.” Jazz checked his surroundings and nodded to himself. He'd walked quite a way while he was lost in his thoughts. “Looks like I'm about five or six joors out. I'll see you in a bit.”

 

 _”Okay. See you soon.”_ Bluestreak closed the channel and Jazz continued walking. 

 

 

 

An evening in with Bluestreak watching comedies from Praxus turned into a ritual quickly. Sometimes it was interrupted by the silver and grey mehc taking a turn on the night shift, and sometimes it was enhanced by Prowl’s presence. Sometimes they watched a drama or went out for drinks and sometimes they played games. Jazz often spent the night as well, and when one of his neighbors asked if he was seeing someone one finally, he realized with a jolt that he was at Prowl and Blue’s house more than his own apartment.

 

He probably should have been concerned by the realization, but instead he just considered asking about moving in when his lease was up.


	25. Chapter 25

“Hey, Jazz?”

 

The musician glanced down at the Praxian who was snuggled into his side. “Yeah, Blue?”

 

“You ever think about spark bonding?”

 

The question was unexpected enough that Jazz sent a command to the entertainment screen to pause their show. “Spark bonding? What brought that up?”

 

“Nothing special!” Bluestreak cringed. “I just… Spinel said something to me when he called earlier that made me think about how Prowl and I aren’t and then I just wondered.”

 

“Oh, one of those things. For a minute i was afraid you and Prowl were going to try and set me up with someone or something.” The visored mech chuckled softly. “Nah, I don’t really think about that stuff much. I thought I wanted a bonded mate when I was real young, cause it sounds so romantic. But I know I’m not willing to have a bond that I can’t break if things get ugly. Not now, anyway.”

 

The silver mech relaxed slightly. “Oh, that makes me feel better. Cause that’s how I feel too, not that I think Prowl would ever abuse me or anything, but what if he’s killed on duty or something? Or what if I am? Spinel didn't seem to get that.”

 

“Your cousin’s a good mech, but he doesn’t have to worry about things like that, you know?”

 

“Yeah.” The Praxian sighed. “So you don’t think we’re wrong not to be spark bonded, even though we’re registered as a mated pair?”

 

“No way. You’re doing what’s right for you two. Tracks and Blaster aren’t bonded either, you know. And they’re planning for more recordicons and maybe even a full-sparked bitlit of their own.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. So don’t start worrying over something that’s not broken. You and Prowl are just fine.”

 

“Thanks, Jazz.” Bluestreak sighed softly and leaned his head against the visored mech’s shoulder. 

 

 

Prowl looked over the paperwork he was preparing--not a case file, thankfully, for the first time in almost a meta-cycle--and twitched his wings with a surprising amount of nervousness. He wanted to believe that Jazz would say yes to what he was going to ask, but he also knew that the musician didn’t like to be tied down with extra responsibilities. 

 

“You've got your serious face on, mech.” Jazz stepped past the dining table and walked to the prep station. “Blue wanted me to make some of those layered bars that Rosie had at the club the other night. You have any requests?”

 

Prowl shook his head. “Whatever you and Bluestreak want is fine. When you have them in the chiller, will you join me?”

 

“Will it make your serious face go away?” There was a playful smile on Jazz’s face, indicating that the visored mech was teasing. Prowl indulged him and nodded. “Good. And I don't mind if you talk while I cook. I can probably make these in recharge.”

 

The Praxian hesitated for a moment. If Jazz reacted badly, he didn’t want the other mech to get hurt while he was cooking.

 

“If it's possible, your face just got even more serious.” Jazz stepped away from the prep station and moved to the chair next to Prowl. “I’ve known you what, six vorns now? I’ve never seen you look this serious before, unless you were working an ugly case. What’s wrong?”

 

Prowl’s wings fluttered in shock. He hadn’t meant to worry his friend! “Nothing is wrong! I am… nervous. I want to ask you if you will do something for us that’s very personal.”

 

“You had me worried there, mech.” The visored mech gave him an encouraging smile. “Just ask me. The worst I can do is say no, right?”

 

“Some of the things I have seen tell me, forcibly, that saying no is _not_ the worst thing you can do.” The Praxian forced his wings into stillness. “I want… Bluestreak and I were hoping that you would agree to be our emergency contact and take on the responsibilities of being our legal next of kin in case we are both somehow incapacitated at the same time.”

 

“What would that entail, exactly?”

 

Prowl felt his wings twitch involuntarily with hope at Jazz’s question. “You would be responsible for making medical care decisions and, if the worst should happen, executing our estate.”

 

“That’s some heavy stuff. No wonder you were nervous.” The musician reached out and laid a hand over the top of the enforcer’s. “I gotta ask before i decide anything, though. Why me?”

 

“Because you are the first person since our own creators that Bluestreak and I trust enough. We both believe that we can trust you to always have our best interests in mind, no matter the circumstances.”

 

Jazz sighed and slumped back in his chair. “Keeps getting heavier. I’ve got one more question, since I know you’ve probably already run all the worst case scenarios through your processor.”

 

“Please, ask.” The black and white mech forced his wings into stillness again, before he could give away how nervous he still was.

 

“What if one or both of you is so injured that you’ll never recover and turning off spark support is what’s in your best interest?”

 

“Then I trust,” Prowl did let his wings twitch again; he didn’t like thinking about the possibility of Bluestreak dying, for any reason. “That you will write and sing an appropriate song at the funeral.”

 

The shorter mech nodded. “Of course I would. It’d be a one time performance, but it’d be the best damn ballad I’ve ever written.”

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

“Yes, that’s a yes. What do you need me to sign?”


	26. Chapter 26

Somehow, the next night he was supposed to meet with Bluestreak and watch entertainment vids, the silver mech convinced Jazz to teach him how to make a sweetened energon fluff he had gotten a recipe for from a coworker.

 

“When exactly did I become a cooking teacher?” Jazz laughed as Blue looked through the storage cabinets for the minerals that would give the energon its flavor. “And when did you forget where things were in your own prep station?”

 

“I can't help it,” the Praxian replied. “You use it more than both of us combined. Prowl can't do more than mix in additives and I only learned the basics. I'm not sure Prowl even puts the additives away anymore, so that he doesn't disturb your system. Ah ha! Mica flakes and cobalt spheres, right?”

 

“That’s the ones. Carefully measure out three grams of cobalt and dump it in the paste.” The visored mech turned his full attention to the energon paste in the bowl under the mixer. “This is already forming some nice peaks. It's going to going to be a great snack.”

 

“What does that mean?” Bluestreak measured the cobalt as ordered and dumped it in the bowl.

 

The musician hummed thoughtfully as the mixture turned a bright purple. “Now ten grams of the mica. And it means that it won't be too runny or too soft. We should be able to eat it with a spoon, like that paste Tracks had backstage at the fountain gig.”

 

“Pudding,” the Enforcer corrected, turning back to the scale. “And that was weird.”

 

“Aw, I thought you liked it.”

 

“I did, but it was still weird. It was like the energon couldn't decide if it was a liquid or a gel.”

 

“Well, the idea’s the same here, but the texture and consistency will be different.”

 

“Oh good.” Bluestreak measured the mica and the turned back to the bowl. “Remind me to remind Prowl that we're almost out of mica, will you?”

 

“Sure. Dump that in whenever you're ready.”

 

They both laughed as Bluestreak dumped the measuring bowl directly over the mixer and flung mica flakes into the air and all over both of them.

 

“Oh no! I'm so sorry!” The Praxian’s wings fluttered as the mineral flakes settled onto the counter and their plating. 

 

Jazz kept laughing as he mixed in the additives that had made it into the bowl. “No worries, my mech. This isn't nearly as a big a mess as I made the first time I was learning to use a mixer. My carrier had to scrape gelled energon of the _ceiling _.”__

__

__“Oh Primus! I bet she was so mad!” The silver and grey mech started laughing again._ _

__

__“Mad doesn't even come close. I thought I was a dead mech once she got off the ladder.” The visored mech turned off the mixer and pulled the beater out of the mix. “Well, it's not going to taste like your friend’s now, but it's done. You hand me a spoon and we can start scooping it into the bowls.”_ _

__

__“Okay.” The Praxian turned to the drawer that held the serving utensils. “Hey Jazz, do you think maybe I could meet your carrier sometime?”_ _

__

__“Careful what you wish for there, Blue. She's been looking for an excuse to come to Iacon. You spend all your time being your charming self and she might not go home.”_ _

__

__When Bluestreak turned to look over his shoulder at the shorter mech, Jazz was reaching up into the cabinet where they stored the dishes Starweave had made. He felt his spark clench for a moment as he missed his sire, then smiled sadly at the thought that Star would be glad they were still using them. “I-is that a yes?”_ _

__

__“Definitely a yes. She'd love to meet both of you. Apparently I talk about you and Prowl as much as I talk about her.” The musician pulled out a set of carved crystal bowls. “Yeah, the whipped energon will look great in these. When do you want me to tell her to come to the city?”_ _

__

__“Oh, um. I don't know. Prowl and I will have to see when we can take a holiday.”_ _

__

__“Sounds good. Just let me know. Now, we should have enough here for six servings, unless you want to use it as a side for something else.”_ _

__

__“I think I've had enough cooking adventures. I'm just going to leave it to you next time.”_ _

__

__Jazz laughed and took the spoon when Bluestreak held it out to him._ _

__

__

__Sometime after the whipped energon was gone, and well into their first entertainment vid--a horror story about sapient space barnacles--Bluestreak snuggled into Jazz's side and rested his head on the musician’s shoulder. It was a comfortable position, and one Jazz had gotten used to as they hung out together._ _

__

__It seemed strange that he had never noticed how _intimate_ it was before. _ _

__

__He could glance down and see every detail of the silver and grey mech’s face. A shift of one arm let him know every wing twitch. He could put his arms around the other mech and hold him all night if he wanted._ _

__

__He could see a flake of iridescent mica stuck to Blue’s lower lip and lean in to lick it off._ _

__

__“Jazz, are you okay?” Worried blue optics peered at him._ _

__

__“Yeah. I'm fine. I just.” The visored mech shook his head. “I'm fine.”_ _

__

__“Are you sure? Cause I've never seen you stare at me like that before.”_ _

__

__“Yeah. I'm fine.” The musician forced his attention back to the video._ _

__

__“Okay.” Bluestreak settled his head against Jazz’s shoulder again. “I’m right here if you need to pause the vid and talk, though.”_ _

__

__“Thanks.” The visored mech gave his friend a small smile. He really didn’t think he should talk to Blue about his sudden realization, though. Instead, he focused on the story on the vid screen and let himself get lost in it._ _

__

__When it was over, Blue sat up and frowned. “Jazz, that was awful. That wasn’t even scary. Did you see the costumes for the space barnacles?”_ _

__

__“Hey, I warned you that it was low budget.”_ _

__

__“They barely even spray painted the hoses!” The Praxian huffed and stood up from the couch. “I’m getting some coolant and then I’m picking the next vid. You want anything?”_ _

__

__“Coolant’s good.” Jazz stood up and stretched before going to the entertainment system to retrieve the data chip. “Some of those rust sticks I saw by the blast chiller would be great too.”_ _

__

__“Okay.” Bluestreak walked out of the room and the visored mech cycled his vents._ _

__

__He had no idea why his processor had suddenly decided there was anything different about video night with Blue tonight. They hadn't even done anything different than normal during the day, aside from the cooking lesson, and if those were messing with his head then he was going to just have to work it out somehow._ _

__

__“Prowl put a death threat on the rust sticks,” Bluestreak said suddenly, startling Jazz out of his thought. “So I grabbed the last of those truffle things that Tracks and Blaster gave us.”_ _

__

__“A death threat?” Jazz turned around to see the Enforcer setting two servings of coolant and a plate of treats down on the table next to the sofa. “That mech takes his snacks way too seriously.”_ _

__

__“It’s probably just habit from work. Some of the other detectives will steal fuel right out of their coworkers’ desks.” Once his hands were empty, the silver and grey mech moved to the storage rack. “Do Prowl and I even have anything left that you haven't seen yet?”_ _

__

__“I don’t know.” The visored mech shrugged and glanced away before the other mech could catch him staring at his doorwings. “I don’t mind re-watching something, though. Unless you’d rather split a rental or something.”_ _

__

__“No, we don’t have to.” The Praxian held up a sealed data chip triumphantly. “I found one none of us have watched. I don't even remember when we bought this one, but the blurb says it’s a cross-species romance fantasy.”_ _

__

__“That sounds terrible.” Jazz laughed. “Let’s put the space barnacles back in.”_ _

__

__“It can’t be worse than that thing you made me watch two cycles ago, with the shopkeeper that fell in love with the empty.” Blue pulled the seal off the package and popped the chip out. “Or the one about the shape changing organics who could somehow become fully functioning mechanical beings.”_ _

__

__“But it probably will be better than the one with the warframe who spark bonded to the scientist just because the scientist had a spike the size of a fusion cannon.”_ _

__

__“I’m still not sure if that one was really a romance or pornography.”_ _

__

__“Me either.” The visored mech shook himself and tucked his video chip into his subspace. “That is definitely the worst vid we’ve watched together.”_ _

__

__“Tell me about it.” The silver mech slid the chip into the player and then made his way to the sofa. He dropped down with a contented sigh and sent the command to the system to start playing the file. Jazz joined him a moment later._ _

__

__They reached for a container of coolant as the opening sequence played across the viewscreen, and their hands touched each other instead of either drink. Bluestreak looked at Jazz with a laugh and a smile. Jazz felt his spark stop pulsing as he realized just _how much_ he liked seeing the Praxian that happy._ _

__

__He leaned in, pressing his lips to that happy smile before either of them realized he was moving. Blue squeaked in surprise, but rather than pull away, he tipped his head slightly and deepened the unexpected kiss._ _

__

__It was Jazz who pulled back only moments later, before they could do much more. “Oh, Primus.”_ _

__

__Bluestreak was still smiling. “You could have just said you didn’t want to watch the vid.”_ _

__

__“Oh, _Primus_.” The musician stood abruptly and starting walking to the hall. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”_ _

__

__“You don’t have to go.” The Praxian’s smile melted away._ _

__

__“I do. I have to go.” Jazz stepped into the dim hallway, his spark stinging at how thoroughly he had just betrayed Prowl’s trust. “I’m sorry.”_ _

__

__He only just managed not to sprint down the hall. Bluestreak didn't seem to be following him, but that didn't reassure the musician; both Praxians could be silent as cybercats when they wanted. When he passed the wash racks and still didn't hear the sound of footsteps behind him, Jazz thought he might actually make it to the street where he could just _drive_ until he figured out what the frag was wrong with him._ _

__

__Prowl was standing in the entryway when he turned the corner. “Jazz, what's wrong?”_ _

__

__Jazz whimpered at the black and white mech’s tone. “I'm so sorry.”_ _

__

__“What are you apologizing for?” The Enforcer took a step closer reaching out for Jazz as the musician’s knees went out and he dropped to the floor. “Jazz, what happened?”_ _

__

__“Oh, primus, Prowl I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. We were just watching vids like we always do and I just leaned over and kissed him.” The musician curled up, hiding his face against his arms and waiting for the anger he knew was coming._ _

__

__He was not expecting Prowl to crouch down next to him and pull him into a hug. “Is that all? I was afraid you might have hurt him.”_ _

__

__“What?” Jazz uncurled and tried to shove the other mech away, but Prowl held him tightly. “How can you be so calm? How can you act like we’re still friends? I made a move on _your mate_!”_ _

__

__The black and white mehc sighed softly. “Jazz--”_ _

__

__“Just let me go Prowl. I’ll come back by tomorrow while Blue’s on duty and get my stuff and you can recode the lock after i’m gone.”_ _

__

__“Jazz--”_ _

__

__“I’m serious!” The visored mech struggled again, trying to stand up and push the taller mech away from him in one step. “I don’t know how you can even stand to look at me. Just let go!”_ _

__

__“Jazz, shut up.” The musician had never heard the enforcer speak to him so forcefully before and was shocked into silence. “Before I get as angry as you seem to want me to be, I want you to answer two questions.”_ _

__

__Slowly, Jazz nodded, and tried to ignore the dread building in his processor and the ache of betraying his friends building in his spark._ _

__

__“Did Bluestreak tell you no or tell you to stop?”_ _

__

__The musician shook his head._ _

__

__“Are you only interested in Bluestreak?”_ _

__

__Jazz stared into Prowl’s optics for several long kliks before something finally clicked in his processor and he shook his head again. Primus help him, he wanted them both._ _

__

__“Then I believe the solution to your problem is simple.” The enforcer shifted his arms slightly, moving Jazz until one hand rested between the musician’s shoulder and the other on his lower back. Then, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jazz’s._ _

__

__The visored mech felt his spark stop at the contact. He switched off his visual feed as the warmth of Prowl’s lips sent tingles through his body. If this was just an hallucination that his processor was generating as the black and white mech dismantled him, he wanted to savor it instead of the reality._ _

__

__“Okay, I’m a little jealous.” Prowl made a noise that sounded vaguely irritated at Bluestreak’s voice. “That’s already a better kiss than I got and you’re not even doing anything.”_ _

__

__“Wha--?” Jazz reactivated his optical feed as the black and white mech pulled away from him._ _

__

__“Given his panic, I’m not certain he was capable of doing much more.”_ _

__

__“Why aren’t either of you mad at me?” The visored mech rubbed one hand over his face. “I’m practically a homewrecker.”_ _

__

__“It is not wrecking our home if we want you in it.” Prowl rubbed Jazz’s back slowly._ _

__

__“Yeah. I mean you do practically live here anyway,” Bluestreak added. “But maybe we can talk about this somewhere a little bit more comfortable than the hallway?”_ _


	27. Chapter 27

The Praxians coaxed Jazz into the dining area and into the chair he always used. Bluestreak sat down across from the musician and bit his lower lip. Prowl moved to the fuel prep station.

 

“I believe we all need some tea. Jazz, where did you put the kettle?”

 

The visored mech rubbed his hands over his face. “It's in the drawer under the blast chiller.”

 

“Thank you.” The black and white mech mech retrieved the kettle and opened a storage drawer. Then he sighed. “And the flavor crystals?” 

 

“Everything for tea is in the cabinet on your left, under the heating elements. And I moved the cheap mugs to the front of the cabinet so there was less risk of breaking the ones Cloudtouch made.”

 

“Thank you.” Prowl pulled out the supplies and began preparing the tea.

 

Bluestreak sighed softly. “I'm sorry, Jazz.”

 

“You're sorry? I kissed you, mech.” The visored mech frowned. 

 

“Not about that. I'm sorry that I was too scared of you leaving forever to talk to you about all this.”

 

“ _We_ were too scared.” Prowl set the kettle on the heating element and came back to the table. “We would rather have had only your friendship than lose everything.”

 

“Mechs, I think I need you to back up. I think I'm reading between the lines right, but my processor isn't in a good place right now.” Jazz looked from Prowl to Blue with a frown.

 

“What we’re trying to say is that we both really like you.” The younger Praxian cycled his vents slowly, trying to stay calm and not start babbling. “As more than just a friend, I mean.”

 

“What Bluestreak is trying to say, is that at some point, you became… trine to us. A partner and part of our household.”

 

“And that we wanted you as a-a mate. Romantic partner in addition to to trine partner.”

 

“Frag me.” The musician replied. “How long?”

 

“Well, something Spinel said pretty early in our trip to Praxus got me thinking about it,” Bluestreak said. “And then we talked and Prowl realized he was thinking it too.”

 

“We have been trying to decide the best way to approach you since the flight home,” Prowl added. The kettle whistle interrupted them and he turned away. 

 

“I didn't want to just dump all of this on you,” the silver and grey mech continued as his partner poured the tea. “I just didn't know how not to, and we were both scared of your reaction.”

 

“Didn't reassure you there, did I?” Jazz picked up his tea when Prowl brought it over a moment later. “For whatever it's worth now, I wasn't freaking out about kissing you; that was nice before my processor caught up. I thought I was stepping between you two, and the last thing I ever wanted to do was cause you problems.”

 

“That explains your comment about being a homewrecker then.” The black and white mech sat down between Jazz and Bluestreak and sipped his tea.

 

“Yeah. And I'm not that mech. I would _never_ deliberately come between a couple, especially not a mated pair and double for my own friends.” The musician forced himself to take a drink of his tea. “You trusted me with everything, even dying. I thought I'd dumped it all in the Rust Sea.”

 

Bluestreak picked up the third mug of tea and fidgeted with it. “What about now? I mean now that you know… everything.”

 

“To be completely honest with you, I don’t know. I’m still sorting out how I feel after what I did. I can’t quite wrap my processor around everything you two have told me, too.” Jazz sighed. “I’m going to need _time_.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” The younger Praxian stared down into his tea.

 

“We will give you time, and let you figure out your own desires.” Prowl’s wings drooped slightly but his voice was firm. “As we said, we do not wish to lose our friend by trying to pursue something you don’t want.”

 

Jazz nodded and took another drink from his tea. “I don’t want to lose mine either. Thanks for the tea, but I think I need to take a walk now. Clear my head.”

 

“Of course.” The elder Praxian didn’t move to stop him as the musician stood up. “We will be waiting, when you’re ready.”


	28. Chapter 28

“He hates us now.” Bluestreak stared dejectedly into the tea that he had let cool to room temperature after Jazz left. 

 

“He does not hate us.” Prowl stared into his own mug, long since emptied. “He is… confused. Unlike us, Jazz has not had the luxury of several meta-cycles to think things over and work out how he truly feels.”

 

“We should have said something sooner. Then he wouldn't have freaked out so much.”

 

“Or he would have. As a mech from Tyger Pax, he would not be accustomed to even the idea of being courted for a trine, and actually doing so even more foreign.” The older mech sighed softly. “We must communicate everything clearly when he comes back. Jazz deserves to know everything.”

 

“D-do you think he’ll leave?” The silver and grey mech’s wings trembled as he asked the question. 

 

“Until Jazz knows what he wants, I cannot say.” Prowl reached out and rested a hand on his partner’s wrist. “For now, all we can do is give him the time that he has asked for.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

Jazz sat on a bench in the park trying to gather his thoughts for what felt like days. He kept hoping things would start making sense, but his processor just kept looping back around and insisting that he had betrayed his friends’ trust and that he was ruining their life together no matter what positive spin he tried to put on it. 

 

A warning rumble of thunder broke his train of thought and Jazz bolted off the bench and had taken a dozen steps before he registered how far away the storm still was. He had plenty of time to get back to his apartment.

 

As soon as he backtracked from the steps he had instinctively run toward the Praxians’ house.

 

The realization that he had been running to them for shelter--that he thought of them as safe, still--did more to quiet his processor than anything else had. Even with his earlier screw up, Prowl and Bluestreak were still _safe_ and he knew they would let him in and make certain he wasn't hurt.

 

Now he just had to figure out what to do with all the feelings he hadn't realized he even had before tonight.

 

With a sigh, the musician turned back toward his apartment before a second clap of thunder reminded him of the oncoming acid rain storm.


	29. Chapter 29

“Prowl, Bluestreak! I'm so glad you made it!” Prowl’s fellow detective beamed at them as they stepped inside the room rented out for his bonding celebration. 

 

“Of course we did.” The black and white mech forced a smiled onto his face. “Congratulations, Highbeam. To you and your bondmate.”

 

“Thank you!” Highbeam smiled brightly. “I wish you had been able to take the day off for the ceremony, too. It was beautiful.”

 

Silently, Prowl was glad they hadn’t. Just being at this party was going to be hard enough on them with things so out of sorts with Jazz. “Well, someone had to respond to the emergency calls.”

 

“And we couldn't leave those to the fire department!” The newly bonded mech laughed for a moment. “Oh, since I know Defender will ask me, are we expecting your third to arrive later? Your RSVP said three, but I know how his band is moving up right now.”

 

Bluestreak made an unhappy noise and Prowl reached out to steady his mate. His own spark ached at the question; he had forgotten that Jazz had promised to come and keep him company. 

 

“Jazz isn't coming,” the silver and grey mech said sadly.

 

“Oh.” For a moment, Prowl thought Highbeam would say more, but the other detective just shook his head. “It's an open bar if you need it.”

 

The black and white mech was surprised by the level of understanding in the other mech's words. “Thank you.”

 

 

Jazz was carefully threading the strings into a harp-like instrument he had found in a junk shop when his personal comm beeped at him. He sighed and pulled his fingers away from the instrument before answering.

 

“Hey, carrier.”

 

_”Sweetspark, I called as soon as I could after I got your message. What's wrong?”_

 

“I just need someone to talk to.”

 

_”You can always talk to me, but you know that. So tell me what's happened and I'll make it better.”_

 

“I don't think it's going to work like that this time.” Jazz rubbed his hands over his face. “I think I really screwed up and ruined the best friendship I've ever had.”

 

 _”That does sound like something you have to fix on your own.”_ his carrier sighed. _”But tell me anyway. Maybe I have advice for you.”_

 

“Thanks, carrier.” the musician echoed her sigh, then started telling her what happened.

 

 _”Sweetspark,”_ she said when he finished telling the story, _”It sounds to me like those mechs love you and they're just as scared of losing you as you are of losing them. You need to go back and talk to them again.”_

 

“But I don't know what to do!”

 

_“Well, your processor might not, but your spark will. I hear how much you love your Praxians every time you talk about them._

 

 

 

“So who died?”

 

“What?” Jazz frowned at his friend as Blaster sat down on the sofa next to him. He hadn’t realized that he’d been projecting anything, but apparently the deployer had picked up on _something_ that clued him into Jazz’s current bleak mood.

 

“You heard me,” Blaster replied. “Either someone died or you’ve gotten dumped, because that music you handed me this morning is the saddest song I have ever seen you write. And since you aren’t dating anyone, I figured someone died. So, who?”

 

“Nobody died. It’s just…” The visored mech sighed. “Things have gotten complicated with me and Prowl and Blue.”

 

“Oh. Oh!” Blaster’s face lit up with a smile. “You finally told them how you felt about them, didn’t you?!”

 

“What?”

 

“Mech, it’s been obvious for at least a vorn. You’re thrusters over wings in love with them.” The grin fell away from the red mech’s face. “So if you didn’t tell them, did they tell you?”

 

“Look, I don’t know how you knew all this before me, but I’m still trying to figure this slag out and I just need a break, okay?”

 

“Fine, but don’t be an exhaust pipe and take so much of a break that they write you off. A mech is lucky to find one bot who really loves him, and you’ve got two.”


	30. Chapter 30

Bluestreak was considering a walk to the park--where he might “accidentally” run into Jazz--when he heard the tentative knock on the front door. He paused his media file and stood up, wondering who it would be; neither of them had ordered a delivery and they weren’t expecting any visitors.

 

And worse, they were actively not expecting their best friend.

 

“Go back to your show, Blue.” Prowl stepped into the hall from the kitchen. “I will get it.”

 

“It’s okay. It’s not that interesting.” It was funny how many things were less interesting without Jazz around.

 

Curious, Blue followed Prowl down the hall and to the door. He knew that there probably wouldn't be anything or anyone exciting there, but he couldn't help hoping. He peered around his partner’s wings as the elder Praxian touched the pad that unlocked the door and told it to open.

 

Jazz peered in at them from the porch, shoulders slumped and expression sad. “Hey, mechs. I wasn’t sure you’d be home.”

 

“We are both off duty until tomorrow night.” Prowl’s wings lifted slightly from the slumped position they had been in since Jazz left ten solar cycles before. “I wanted to forward our schedules like always, but I was not certain it would be welcome.”

 

“Anything you want to send me is welcome.” The visored mech sighed. “I'm sorry I left you both hanging for so long. I wanted to come back a few cycles ago, but we got sent out of town for a surprise show in Perihex.”

 

“It's okay.” Bluestreak knew it really wasn't yet, but if Jazz was here now then maybe it would be soon. “You're here now.”

 

“Yeah.” Jazz sighed again, a little less sadly, and smiled. “Primus, I missed you two.”

 

“We missed you, too.” the black and white mech returned the smile. “Please, come in.”

 

“I can make you the treats for a change,” Bluestreak added.

 

“There's one thing I gotta do first,” the musician told him. Then he stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Prowl. The elder Praxian hugged Jazz in return, wings trembling with relief as he held the smaller mech.

 

Bluestreak’s wings trembled, too, relief flooding his spark. Jazz had _come home_. They could work everything else out now.

 

After several kliks, the visored mech pulled back from.the elder Praxian and pinned the silver and grey mech with a soft frown. “I can't hug you when you’re standing behind Prowl.”

 

Bluestreak laughed for the first time in days, and stepped forward into Jazz's arms.

 

 

 

Bluestreak set a plate of treats down in front of Jazz with a smile. "Twincast taught me how to make these while you were gone.”

 

“Yeah? He must really like you, then. He never teaches anybody to cook, not even Rosie.” Jazz picked up one of the round treats and bit into it. A tart flavor filled his mouth and he smiled as he chewed. “Blue, these are great. I'd let you feed these to me til my tank burst.”

 

The silver and grey mech’s smile widened for a moment. Then his wings drooped toward the floor. “I was afraid I wouldn't ever get to give them to you.”

 

“Hey, I told you I was coming back.” The visored mech set the remaining treats back on his plate and then reached for the younger Praxian. Blue let himself better pulled into a hug without resisting. “I just had to figure out what I wanted from the two of you first.”

 

“I know. I just missed you so much.”

 

“Well, if it's up to me, I'm not leaving you two. Ever. Not even if there's a rampaging moosebot or a feral cybercat.” Jazz pulled one arm away from Bluestreak and extended it to prowl, inviting the elder mech into the hug. 

 

Prowl stepped close enough to hold both Jazz and Bluestreak and sighed as the visored mech squeezed gently. “I also missed you. Our home is no longer the same without you in it.”

 

“Yeah. My apartment isn't home with you two either. Looks like we're going to be together for a while.” the musician smiled.

 

“I wouldn't have it any other way,” Prowl told him.

 

“Yeah,” Bluestreak agreed. “We want to be with you.”

 

“It took me a bit, but I get that now.” Jazz sighed. “I'm sorry that I took so long to figure everything out, even before we went out of town on that stupid publicity stunt. I almost came back home that night, but I was having a lot of trouble dealing with my own processor.”

 

“Promise you’ll talk to us more if that happens again?” Bluestreak’s question carried an implied order under its surface meaning, and it put any lingering unease Jazz might have been feeling at rest. 

 

“I promise. But you two have to promise to talk about things to me, too. Think of how much fun we could have been having if we'd talked meta-cycles ago.” The visored mech pinned each Praxian with a hard stare. 

 

“I promise.” The younger Praxian squeezed him tightly.

 

“As do I,” Prowl agreed.

 

“Good.” Jazz’s firm stare gave way to a soft smile. “Primus, I missed the two of you.”

 

“Well, you have finally come home now.” It was the black and white mech’s turn to squeeze the musician more tightly 

 

“Yeah, I have.” Jazz smiled again, feeling more at ease than he had in cycles. “Guess you’re finally going to have to clean out that storage closet, so we have some place to put my instruments after my lease is up.”

 

“Ugh, no.” Bluestreak made a face and finally pulled away from the hug. “I’d rather add on a whole other room.”

 

“We will clean the closet,” Prowl replied. “And paint the guest room, and do anything else necessary to make this house as much yours as it is ours.”

 

“Huh. Didn’t think moving in would be quite that easy.” The visored mech’s smile widened. “You two are the best, you know that?”

 

“Well, you did say that you wanted to come home earlier.” Prowl ducked his head, embarrassed. “I simply assumed you meant that literally.”

 

“Oh, I did.” Jazz moved his free hand to Prowl’s chin and used it to tip the black and white mech's face back up. Then he pressed a soft kiss to the Enforcer’s lips. “I want to be here, with the two of you.”

 

A slow smile spread across Prowl’s face and he leaned back in for another kiss. The musician turned off his visual feed as the Enforcer’s lips sealed themselves against his, memorizing the way they felt and the warmth of the kiss. 

 

After a few moments, a hand slipped between them to rest on Jazz’s cheek. The visored mech brought his visual feed back up in time to see Prowl pulled away with a small smile, and Bluestreak’s face coming into focus. There was a sheen of lubricant building up in the younger Praxian’s optics, and Jazz started to reach up to wipe it away before it could run down his face in tears.

 

Then the silver and grey mech leaned in and pressed a kiss of his own against the musician’s lips. Jazz’s spark sang.


	31. Chapter 31

“What do you think of this shade of blue?” Jazz held up a decoration simulator showing a room painted in a soft silvery blue. “You have a better idea of what will go with what you two have already done.”

 

Prowl peered over his new partner's shoulder. “You need not concern yourself with matching the rest of the house when this is your personal space. You’ve seen the shade of red that Bluestreak painted his study.”

 

“That color is optic-searing. It amazes me he gets anything done in there.” The musician nudged the Enforcer gently. “You didn’t tell me what you think, though.”

 

“It is soothing, and will complement the colors of the crystal tree you brought back from Praxus well. It is also neutral enough to appease Tracks’ sense of household aesthetics, if we can ever convince him to allow us to host a meal at our home.”

 

“Kind of what I was thinking too. But it also reminded me a little of the color of the house that my carrier and I lived in before my brother was sparked. It wasn’t much, but we were happy there and I think it was this color.”

 

“All the more reason for you to paint your room in this shade, if you want it.” Prowl smiled softly. “Did you want an accent color? I understand they’re in fashion all over Iacon.”

 

“Nah. I don’t need that. But we do need to see if we can get those soundproof tiles for between my room and the berthroom. If I’m songwriting in the middle of the night, I really don’t want to disturb the two of you.”

 

“Hm. Perhaps a custom flooring as well. Bluestreak is not as sensitive to sound vibrations, but they _will_ wake me.”

 

“Have you gentlemechs decided on a color or two?” The salesbot interrupted them with a bright smile.

 

“We have,” Prowl replied. “But we were also discussing the need for specialty upgrades for my partner’s space. He is a musician by trade, and there will be many nights where I and our third will need uninterrupted recharge.”

 

“What my partner is saying,” Jazz turned a grin toward the taller mech, still not tired of referring to him that way, “Is that we need a whole lot of soundproofing supplies. Walls, floor, ceiling, the works.”

 

“And we also need a meter of replacement tile in a very specific shade of brown.”

 

The salesbot perked up visibly. “Gentlemechs, you are certainly in the correct shop to fill your needs. Follow me, and I will be _delighted _to set you up with everything your Trine needs to finish your home.”__

__

__

__

__

__

__“Jazz, where are we going to put all this stuff? We don’t need three sets of diningware, or this many mugs or--”_ _

__

__“Blue, it’s okay. I’m not keeping all of it.” Jazz cut of his partner with a smile. “We’re boxing most of it up to ship over to the shelter or back home to my carrier. We’re just keeping my instruments, my vid collection, my sound kit and a few things that have some sentimental value. And the berth, if you were serious about adding on another room or two for when your cousins come over to visit.”_ _

__

__“I’d like to, but I don’t know when we’ll have the permits in order and we don’t really have anywhere to keep a spare berth anyway.” The silver mech shrugged. “We can buy another one later.”_ _

__

__“Sounds good. We waiting on Prowl before we get started or are we just jumping in?”_ _

__

__“Let’s just get started. We can make him unpack at the house.”_ _


	32. Chapter 32

The day after Jazz’s last box was unpacked, Tracks and Blaster dropped in for an impromptu dinner party. They were followed by Sweep and a small keg of surprisingly smooth Kaonite lager. Sometime during their second round of drinks, Twincast arrived with Rosanna, Twirl and a tray of lavish pastries.

 

For the first time he could remember, Prowl was actually comfortable with the crowd despite the very close quarters in their dining area. He was enjoying the laughter and stories, and Twincast’s pastries were superb as always, but he was enjoying the camaraderie even more. With no small amount of surprise, the Enforcer realized that he would be disappointed when everyone left for the night. 

 

“You look like you’re having fun.” Jazz leaned in and refilled the taller mech’s drink before giving him a quick kiss. “Should we invite everyone over more often?”

 

“I believe I would enjoy that, in moderation,” Prowl replied with a small smile. “But we should actually plan such events in the future, so that Bluestreak and I are not on call.”

 

“You got it.” Jazz kissed his partner again. 

 

“Jazz, someone’s at the door!” Bluestreak’s voice cut across the story that Rosanna and Twincast had been telling. Prowl hadn’t heard a knock, but that didn’t surprise him, given the amount of noise in the room. “Who else did you invite over?”

 

“Spinel and his trine, but they’re doing a show in Gygax and can’t visit for another two or three cycles!” Jazz shrugged. “I have no idea.”

 

The silver mech laughed and stepped out of the room. “Okay. I’ll see who it is.”

 

“Sounds good.” The visored mech sighed softly and leaned against his partner with an affectionate nuzzle. “You want anything else while we’re waiting on Blue to come back?”

 

“I am fine.” Prowl wrapped an arm around the shorter mech. “But you seem tired. Perhaps you should sit down and relax? Twincast seems to have refreshments well in hand.”

 

“I would, but we’ve only got three chairs.”

 

“We will invest in more soon, then. I doubt that Tracks and Blaster will ever stop visiting now that they’ve gotten inside once.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds about right. They’re like…” Jazz trailed off and Prowl looked up too see what had grabbed the other mech’s attention. He was staring at the bulky femme--construction class, if the Enforcer had to guess--following Bluestreak into the room. “Carrier?”

 

“Hello, sweetspark.” The femme smiled.

 

Jazz sprinted around the table a klik later and wrapped her in a hug. “Carrier, I can’t believe you’re here.”

 

“Well, when Blaster called and said he was throwing you a surprise engagement party, I couldn’t stay home.” She hugged him tightly. “It’s not every day your sparkling settles down with his own Trine, you know.”

 

“I know.” Jazz kept one arm around the femme as he turned to look at Bluestreak and the Prowl. “Carrier, you know most everyone but the Praxians are Bluestreak and Prowl, my trine mates. Mechs, my carrier Uplift.”

 

Briefly, Prowl felt the pang of his parents and Bluestreak’s being gone, then he smiled. His relationship with Uplift would undoubtedly be different, but he could already see how much affection she held for her offspring and thought it might extend to them as well with time. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

 

“Yeah!” Bluestreak grinned. “Jazz talks about you all the time! I can’t wait to get to know you better!”

 

“I’m pretty excited to get to know the two of you, too.” Uplift extended an arm toward the silver mech and Blue stepped into the hug with a bright smile.


	33. Chapter 33

The three of them were kneeling around a small altar holding the Praxian-traditional bonding chalice, a Vosian-traditional Trining cable and a long gold ribbon that wasn’t precisely traditional in Tyger Pax but was a growing trend among younger mechs that would take a more permanent root soon enough. They had worked hard with Sigma to create a ceremony that would incorporate all three traditions, and the hall was filled with their family and friends who had come to share their pledge day.

 

Bluestreak knew he should be nervous, but his grandparent was standing over them and giving him an encouraging smile and Jazz was beaming happiness, and Prowl’s wings were held high in a position that said he was joyful even though his face was serene. He couldn’t be nervous, not when he was surrounded by so much love and happiness.

 

“Dearest friends,” Sigma began speaking as the temple bell chimed for the eighth groon. “Honored guests, beloved family, welcome. Primus’ blessing on you in this place as we join together to celebrate the union of these three mechs. There are not many mechanisms who find one spark that spins in harmony with their own, but Bluestreak, Prowl and Jazz have been fortunate enough to find two. On this day, in front of Primus and their gathered loved ones, they have made the choice to commit their lives to the others and leave this temple as a bonded trine.”

 

Now Bluestreak felt the first threads of nervousness as the priest continued speaking about love and trust. He would be going first, plugging in the Trining cable and linking their processors for the rest of their lives. It was an incredible amount of responsibility.

 

“Hey,” Jazz whispered just loudly enough for the two Praxians to hear him under Sigma’s speech. “It’s gonna be fine. I love you.”

 

Jazz said “I love you” at least twice a day to each of them, and it never failed to soothe and warm Blue’s spark. “Thanks. Love you, too.”

 

The younger Praxian turned his attention back to his grandparent, so that he was ready when the priest finally said, “Bluestreak, present the cable to your chosen Trine.”

 

Bluestreak nodded and picked up the Trining cable. “I, Bluestreak, present this cable to my chosen with the wish that we be united in processor as we are united in love.”

 

The phrasing wasn’t traditional and the few Seekers in the audience murmured, but they had all agreed not to spark bond until after the Enforcers were retired. Sigma lifted his hand for quiet, supporting their choice and allowing the ceremony to continue.

 

Prowl raised his left arm, wrist turned upward and data port revealed. “I, Prowl, share your wish and your love. I accept your cable.”

 

The silver mech gave the black and white a small smile and reached over to plug the first section of the three way cable into Prowl’s wrist.

 

Then Jazz offered his data port with a small flourish. It was such a reasurringly typical move that Blue relaxed a little more. “I, Jazz, share your wish and your love. I accept your cable.”

 

His fingers shook a little as he plugged the second section of the cable into Jazz’s wrist. Then Bluestreak turned his attention to his own wrist port. Once he plugged in, their pre-installed programming would take over and create the processor sync that made them a Trine in the Vosian tradition. “On this day and forever after, we are Trine.”

 

The silver mech plugged in the last section of the cord and braced himself for the rush of data.

 

 

 

Jazz was reeling slightly from the processor sync. He had known, in theory, what was going to happen but it hadn't prepared him for the reality. 

 

He could _feel_ Prowl and Blue’s processors, humming along in tandem with his. They weren't actually slaved together, but if he needed to draw on Prowl's processing ability or Bluestreak’s ability to calculate equations on the fly, he could do it. And they could borrow his creativity or understanding of musical theory just as easily.

 

The visored mech understood now, why Trines were only formed after the deepest trust was established. 

 

“Lady Uplift, please step forward.” Sigma had started speaking again, and Jazz forced himself to focus on the ceremony again rather than on the sensations he was sharing with his partners.

 

The musician’s carrier rose from her seat in the first row of witnesses and stepped toward the new Trine with a bright smile. Uplift picked up the ribbon and reached for Jazz’s still-extended wrist. Carefully, she unplugged the trining cable and looped the gold cloth around the visored mech’s wrist.

 

“As I tie this ribbon, I give my blessing to your union. May you and your partners have the kind of life I only dreamed of.”

 

Jazz’s spark warmed at her words. His carrier hadn’t rehearsed what she was going to say at the ceremony, wanting it to be a surprise to them. He smiled at her as she moved to Prowl’s side and repeated the removal of the trining cable and wrapping of the ribbon, and again when she repeated the actions with Bluestreak.

 

Then she returned to Jazz’s side and pulled on the free end of the ribbon, drawing their hands close to the chalice before tying an elaborate bow with the free end on Jazz’s wrist.

 

Sigma began speaking again. “With this ribbon, you are symbolically linked in body as you are in processor and in love. May none in this world tear apart those which Primus has brought together.”

 

Several mechs in the crowd cheered as Uplift returned to her seat. 

 

“Bluestreak, Prowl and Jazz,” The Praxian priest looked at them with a smile and Jazz was glad they had asked him to perform their ceremony; he looked so _happy_. “Lift the chalice and drink of the energon provided by your labors and show those gathered here that you are prepared to share the responsibility of being a mated trine.”

 

 

 

Prowl hoped that no one could see his hand shaking as he reached for the chalice. His processor was still a little overwhelmed from all the extra input the processor sync was giving him, and his spark was overwhelmed by the words that Jazz’s creator had whispered to him as she tied the ribbon around his wrist.

 

_”Of all the people in the world, I’m glad that Jazz chose you and Blue. Every day, I see you love him as much as he loves you and I’m so grateful that he’ll have you for the rest of your lives.”_

 

He was always so grateful that Bluestreak and Jazz loved him, that it never occurred to him that perhaps that gratitude was a two way street.

 

When his partners’ hands joined his around the stem of the chalice, something of an intricate maneuver since the container had been designed for pair bondings, Prowl led them in lifting it. They had rehearsed this action several times over the last few days, and now it felt like an instinctive motion as he moved the chalice toward Bluestreak.

 

The silver mech smiled as they moved the cup toward his mouth, then used his free hand to guide it into place before they tipped it. Prowl took a moment to admire the ribbons as they draped across his chestplate, symbolizing how they were tied together permanently now.

 

“With this energon,” the black and white mech said proudly, “I pledge myself to this trine before Primus and all of Cybertron.”

 

Bluestreak was still smiling as he lowered the chalice and moved it toward Jazz. The musician mirrored the expression as he guided it to his own mouth. 

 

“With this energon, I pledge myself to this trine before Primus and all of Cybertron.” Blue’s wings fluttered with happiness as Jazz drank.

 

Then they lowered the chalice and moved it to Prowl. The black and white Praxian smiled softly at both of them and then guided the cup to his lips.

 

“I never thought I’d have one mate, let alone two,” Jazz said, breaking away from the traditional vows. They had known he would; the visored mech had chafed with every recital during the rehearsals. “When I was growing up, getting out of the slums was the biggest dream I could imagine. Now I've got two mechs I love more than anyone in the universe who love me back. And I swear to you, with our whole family as witnesses, that I’m going to love you and do right by you for the rest of our lives.”

 

Prowl thought his spark might overflow with joy at the sincerity in Jazz’s words. He sipped at the energon in the cup to hide his reaction. Once he felt composed again, he lowered the chalice back to the altar and the three of them let go of it.

 

Somewhere behind Sigma, a bell sounded and the priest clapped his hands. “It is my greatest joy to pronounce Prowl, Bluestreak and Jazz a bonded trine! What Primus has brought together, may only Primus break apart!”

 

The guests burst into applause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is. The end. Whew!
> 
> When I started this fic, I figured it would be three, maybe four chapters. Clearly, the joke was on me. I've worked on this fic for almost a full year, and almost 30,000 words later it is finished and posted.
> 
> This is the end for this story, but not for this universe. I've several scrapped scenes and ideas that didn't fit the main fic but that I still want to write up and share with you all. I hope that you'll think they're as fun as I do.


End file.
